


Snowstorm - on Ice!

by jalen_mara



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Olympic Games - Fandom, ice skating - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst and Feels, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Ice Skating, Jon Snow Knows Nothing, Maybe - Freeform, Olympics, Slow Burn, Think the Last Five Years and you've got it, Time Skips, Tragedy, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, pairs skating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-03-21 22:39:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 78,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13750668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jalen_mara/pseuds/jalen_mara
Summary: She was ethereal. No, she was more than that-- she wasbreathtaking-- a riot of color exploding from her tiny body. Her hair first the color of the sun, then with the next breath the color of the moon. Always changing, but ever the color of light-- the glow around her growing and pulsing with life. He tightened his grip on her small hand, her delicate fingers crushed in his desperate need to keep her close, to not let her slip away as she had every time before. He felt her reassuring squeeze on his fingers as she turned in his arms to face him.This was always the part he dreaded. To gaze upon her face and know that with every day that passed, some other detail would fade. The exact shade of her lips, the curl of her eyelashes. He saw her only in the broadest of strokes now, the palate ofherdimming over time.OR: Jon Snow goes for the Gold. If only his personal life would stop getting in his way.NBC and the International Olympic Committee proudly present:Snowstorm - on Ice!Completed 8/12/2018 !!





	1. Jon - Men's Free Skate

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> Thanks for joining me on this ridiculous adventure through a GoT/Olympic Games Modern AU. Please note: My expertise in the art of figure skating is based solely on 33 years of watching figure skating religiously and weeping every time Michelle Kwan was ROBBED of well deserved gold medals. 
> 
> That, and this article-- https://www.theatlantic.com/entertainment/archive/2014/02/gif-guide-figure-skaters-jumps-olympics/357723/
> 
> This is my first time posting at AO3 (but not to fanfic in general), but do please be kind! Feel free to wave at me in the comments.
> 
> ~*~*~*~*~

“Men’s Final: Group 4 to the ice, please. Men’s Final: Group 4 to the ice please.” the pleasant, disembodied voice of the announcer sounded over the loudspeaker system, a startling opposite to the heavy backstage atmosphere that surged to immediate cacophony as the final group of skaters lurched to their feet as one. Coaches, choreographers, competitors and the like all now brimming with last minute advice, well wishes, and in the instance of one unfortunate skater from the tiny country of Volantis, vomit.

Nerves. They were everywhere. You could trip on them like a livewire and  watch your dreams die before you even had time to draw your next breath. But then again, this was the Olympic Games. One could hardly expect anything to be easy when the entire world was watching, especially with a gold medal on the line.

Jon Snow lifted his head from where it had been lightly resting in his hands, reflexively reaching to toss his wayward curls out of his eyes before realizing that his hair was secured in a half bun. He tightened the laces to his ice skates once more for luck, and took his place in line among the other skaters as the final group was called to the ice.

“Snow.” he turned as the voice of their-- his,  _ his _ coach, Tyrion Lannister sounded in his ears, and lifted an eyebrow. “Breathe.” Tyrion continued. “It’s just the warm-up. The hard part comes later.” 

Jon nodded once, opening his mouth to reply before Tyrion cut him off again-- “And none of that ‘Aye’ business. I have no idea where you picked it up, but I don’t condone it and will not be a part of it.” the words softened by just the barest wink.

Jon glared anyway- he rarely appreciated the teasing nature of his coach, but he would continue to put up with it now as he had for the last five years, putting up with it for her--

_ No. _

He took a cleansing breath. Now was not the time to get emotional. Sentiment could wait until after the competition was done. He joined the line, last of the 5 competitors for this final group. The favorites.

“... remember to fucking count this time would you? I swear if you pull out of another sit spin after only three seconds, I will make my way out onto the ice to beat you into submission myself, and it will not be a pretty sight.” Jon smiled slightly in reply.

“Oh thank the gods, he lives. Be sure to save some of that ‘charm’ for the judges, Snow.” the laugh in Tyrion’s voice was bubbling dangerously close to the surface. Jon wondered if he should be worried that his coach had hidden a flask somewhere on his person. Again--

_ No. _

Right. Right. Not the time, nor the place. If Tyrion had fallen off the wagon again, they could deal with it just as well in an hour when the most important skate of his life had concluded.  _ Well… second most important anyway… _

A hand on his forearm startled him out of his thoughts. Jon glanced down at Tyrion, surprised to see actual seriousness in his eyes. “You’re in your head. I can see it.”

Jon sighed. “Yes.” There was little use in denying it.

Tyrion pursed his lips. “Go land a fucking quad loop. That will either clear it, or not. If it does, great. If not, well, we have 45 minutes to snap you the fuck out of it.”

The official escorting their group turned to fasten Tyrion with a level of side-eye that even she would have been proud of. “Right, right. International decorum and all that.” Tyrion waived her off, but his hand tightened on Jon’s forearm, finally tugging on it, so that he had Jon’s undivided attention. “I know that we agreed not to speak of--”

“We did.” Jon interrupted.

Tyrion’s shrewd gaze always unnerved him, even more so now that he was moments away from his final Free Skate, but something in his eyes softened. “My boy--” the pain cracking through his tone did nothing to settle Jon’s nerves in this moment. “You know that she would want--”

“I know.” Jon clenched his jaw stubbornly.

_ No. _

“Tyrion- I can’t.” Jon peeled Tyrion’s fingers from his arm as gently as he could. “I know you’re trying to help, but this-- this isn’t the way.”

“United States?” the official from before crossed purposefully to them, “We have a call--”

“We’ll talk about it after.” Jon said, definitively ending the conversation by removing his skate guards and handing them to the PA assigned to the US skating team before stepping out onto the ice.

It was electric.

It never ceased to amaze him how the thrill of competition could change the molecules of air around you, simultaneously making it harder to breathe and causing your entire nervous system to speed up in response. Breath, heart, pulse, everything pounding in one deafening rhythm that could easily carry you into madness, if you let it.

Some of the greats said it was that pulse, that pounding that drove them to their victories, while others still claimed that it was in the quietness of the moments between that contained the actual competitive fire and glory. The moments where you ceased to be, and became one with the drive inside of you.

Jon had no idea which of these theories he favored. All he knew is that this was finally his time. His moment.

Curse be damned.

To settle back within himself, Jon pushed off, gliding clockwise around the ice, taking his place in the jump rotations. As he had pulled the coveted last position that his first place finish in the Short Program had afforded him, that meant he would be skating directly after the other gold medal favorite from Japan, Yuzuru Hanyu, currently sitting in 2nd place. With every lap, he came back a bit more to himself, breathing steadily, and trying to ignore the fact that his hands felt empty, wanting.

Someday that feeling would go away.

Yuzuru finished his jump pass, and Jon accelerated, eager to prove to these competitors, these judges, this audience, that his Short Program win had not been a fluke (as many felt), and that he deserved a place here in this pantheon. He felt the same single minded concentration drop over him as he approached his quad toe-loop, planting his toe-pick into the ice at just the right moment to launch himself into the air, pulling his arms to his chest in a tight x as he rotated, all of it over in a blink of an eye as he came to land cleanly on his right foot. He was dimly aware of the crowd’s surge of energy as he rejoined the rotation, resuming his laps of the ice.

He could do this. He would break this curse. He would do it all.

Alone. 


	2. Dany - The Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Dany meet for the first time. Dany's on a mission, Jon's gotten used to hiding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone - a little clarification-- this fic is a little mixed with both book and show details, as the two have now merged in my brain.
> 
> Also, Jon and Dany are both American in this fic as I'm American and write what you know, you know? Towns in Westeros are all in the US (i.e.- Winterfell is is Massachesetts, etc) and other countries will be referred to as countries in our current world.
> 
> Thanks to all of you who have given my crazy little plot bunny a chance! Feel free to say hi!
> 
> Without further ado, heeeeere's Dany!

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Dany squinted down at her iphone, shielding her eyes from the sun’s glare as she tried to make out the address  on google maps and compare it to that of the house in front of her. This visit would be humiliating enough, even without accidentally going to a neighbor’s home and announcing her intentions to the world before she was ready. 

 

She pulled the phone closer and examined the number, 998 Wall Avenue, Winterfell, MA, before checking the number on the red door in front of her, the number 998 clearly displayed. She took a deep breath. This was it, now or never.

 

Dany tucked her silver-white braid into her coat, and pulled her hood up against the deep chill of early spring in Massachusetts, so different than her home state of Oregon. Straightening her sunglasses on the bridge of her pert nose, she threw open the door of her used Toyota Corolla, lovingly nicknamed her “Silver”, the door creaking in protest as she stepped out into the street, and crossed up the walkway to his front door.

 

She hoped that Tyrion had gotten through to him this morning. Even though this meeting had been scheduled weeks ago, they had received no word from his manager, Davos, yesterday when they had reconfirmed. Dany knew that he had expressed hesitance, and Tyrion had advised caution, so as not to spook him too badly with her visit and proposition. 

 

“He’s a good man, Jon Snow. I like him, and…” he had paused then, surprising Dany with the hint of uncertainty, avoiding her eyes before continuing “And, he has more of a reason to hate Cersei Lannister than you do.”

 

Tyrion had flatly refused to answer any more questions after that, knowing that her curiosity had been ignited and her inner fire would demand that she follow that mystery to its end, simply stating that Jon Snow wore his grievances against the world like armor, and that she would need to tread carefully.

 

She paused on the doorstep, taking a moment to gather herself before knocking, glancing around at the “Beware of Dog” welcome mat, the aged spring wreath on the door that looked as if it had seen its fair share of turbulent weather, and the 2 pairs of rain boots kicked off to the left of the doorway, one pair quite a bit smaller than the other, green with white polka dots versus the utilitarian black of the larger pair. Dany winced slightly- the ghosts were thick here it seemed.

 

She lifted her gloved hand to knock, lightly wrapping the gold knocker situated directly below the house number and peephole. Immediately, she was greeted by an enormous eruption of noise, taking her instinctively back a step before she caught herself and realized the aforementioned dog was greeting her; barking, whining, and scratching at the front door from the opposite side. Dany huffed out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, dropping her hands from where they had clasped the lapels of her own coat in surprise. There was a moment of continued frenzy before a muffled masculine voice sounded. 

 

“Ghost! Down.”

 

Silence reigned immediately, eerily and there was an awkward moment of feeling watched before the door slowly opened to reveal none other than Jon Snow, former Jr. World Champion, competitor, and handsome, handsome man.

 

_ No. Do not even start that. That’s not why we’re here. Strictly professional. _

 

Silently shaking herself, Dany pasted a smile on her face and held out her hand. “Jon Snow? Hi, I’m--”

 

“I know.”  

 

Dany stalled, her smile faltering a bit, her hand ignored as she stood rooted to the front porch. She pulled back her hand, and trying to achieve a level of nonchalance, reached for her sunglasses, taking them off her face and folding them into her open palm before shoving them into a pocket. “Great. And I know you, obviously.” A flash of white caught her eye behind Jon. “Is that who was making all the racket?” she teased lightly, her heart still pounding in her chest more than she was used to.

 

Jon had the decency to look chagrined. “Yeah. That’s Ghost.” he turned slightly to reveal the largest Siberian Husky Dany had ever seen, and she took another small step back before she could help herself.

 

“He’s- uh.” she swallowed visibly, her mind racing to find something complimentary about the beautiful yet nerve wracking creature before her. Steeling herself, she lifted her right palm and held it out to the beast, willing herself to stay calm and still as he raised from his crouch and approached her cautiously. “...Unique.” she finished lamely.Her eyes caught Ghost’s as he nuzzled into her palm, his red eyes never leaving hers.

 

“Albino?” she asked quietly. When no immediate answer came, she glanced over at his master worriedly, wondering if she had somehow managed to insult him already. He had a notorious reputation for taking personally any slights against him and those he held dear. “It’s just, the eyes--” stuttering to a stop as she met Jon’s dark gaze, his own eyes holding a level of shock she didn’t quite understand as she quickly pulled her hand back from Ghost’s snout, now sure that she had overstepped somehow.

 

She swallowed tightly, dropping her gaze from his as she ran her hands self-consciously down the front of her coat, tugging it into place before folding her hands tightly in front of her to keep from fidgeting. There was another moment of awkward observation where silence reigned, and Dany struggled not to let her confusion show at the intensity in which Jon seemed to be studying her. 

 

“Aye,” he said, and she felt her lips quirk before she could hastily compose her features again.

 

“Ah.”

 

Silence.

 

“Shall I-?” her question hung in the air as she shifted her weight.

 

“Do you want to--” he stopped, still unsmiling has he opened the door wider, and nudged Ghost further into the hallway.

 

She opted not to take it personally that his manners, so far, seemed less than desirable. Tyrion had warned her that East Coasters were more abrupt, and Massholes in particular were a breed unto themselves. Having spent a decent amount of time in New York, Dany was familiar with the more hurried nature that what she was used to. Her sleepy town of Dragonstone, Oregon may leave a lot to be desired, but at least the with the people she called home, kindness did it’s best to reign.

 

Dany nodded and stepped inside, grateful to be indoors and away from the chill of the wind. She shrugged off her coat, and held it for a moment before Jon seemed to kick into gear, offering to hang it up for her, and waving her into the dining room just off the entryway.

 

She stepped through and was again immediately aware of a more feminine presence than she was anticipating, from the softer blue color scheme to the lace tablecloth on the table, to the singular picture of a beautiful redhead on the hutch below the window. Dany tried to stifle the sharp intake of breath as she recognized Ygritte Wilde’s face. She would have recognized her anywhere, even after all this time- anyone in their business would have recognized one of the best and brightest of their sport, but was surprised that Jon seemed so comfortable with having her on display in his home.

 

“Coffee or tea?” the low rumble of his voice behind her startled her for the second time in a short while, and she jumped slightly, bumping the hutch in the process, the picture rocking precariously until Jon snatched it, stabilizing the hutch as Dany stepped away hastily.

 

“Tea, thank you.”

 

Jon glared at her in return, and Dany felt her heart sink. This was not going well. He turned on his heel and disappeared through the swinging doorway she assumed led to the kitchen, carrying the picture of his former partner with him.

 

It had been tragic, the accident that had separated Ygritte and Jon. A drunk driver careening through heavy highway traffic, only to exit abruptly and skid out of control on an overpass, hitting Ygritte and Jon’s car head on. And all of it only hours after qualifying for their first World Championship. Ygritte had been driving, Jon, dozing in the passenger’s seat. The doctors later said that it was only his flexibility in his unconscious state that had saved his life. Ygritte hadn’t been so lucky.

 

The shock that had permeated the US Ice Skating Federation had been immediate. To have the best and the brightest ripped unfairly from each other and the world was unfair at best, and devastating at most. Jon Snow had disappeared from public life, and all competition.

 

Today, Dany was hoping to change that.

 

“Sorry I was late.” she called through the doorway, hoping that her voice didn’t sound as high-pitched in reality as it suddenly seemed in her own ears. She pulled out a chair and sat, folding her hands on the table in front of her. “Tyrion tried to re-confirm yesterday, but we never heard back and I didn’t want to presume, but also didn’t want to no show in case you were counting on my being here--” she closed her mouth abruptly, realizing she was rambling, but seemingly unable to stop herself.

 

“I agreed to it, didn’t I?” that same low rumble through a doorway.

 

Dany shivered, the hair on the back of her neck raising as she imagined trying to get used to the possibility, vague as it might be, of hearing this voice every day.

 

_ Focus. _

 

“Well, yes, but-”

 

The door swung open, Jon nudging it with his foot as his hands were full with two steaming mugs. “I don’t agree to things I don’t intend to do.” his mouth hardened into a straight line.

 

Dany felt her first twinge of annoyance with the man. “Neither do I.”

 

There was a moment of silence as both studied each other. Dany taking in the hardness of his mouth, his full pursed lips, the scars above both eyes- remnants of the accident, the set line of his jaw. She idly wondered what he saw in her in this moment. She was younger than him by only a year or so, and even though they had never faced each other in competition, she knew that at least a bit of her “reputation” must have reached his ears. The ice skating community was not know for their tight lipped nature.

 

She reached for the mug of tea, wrapping her hand around the body of it, her fingers lightly brushing against his on the handle. “Careful, it’s--”

 

“Hot.” Dany smiled. “Yes, I know.” she drew it to her mouth and blew across the top of the liquid, the ripples caused by her breath fanning out.

 

Another of those peculiar silences reigned for a time as Jon eased himself into a chair across from her, the grace inherent to such a simple movement assuring her that she was not completely insane, and that this “hairbrained idea of a catastrophe waiting to happen” as Tyrion fondly referred to this inquiry as was not as ill-equipped as she was beginning to believe.

 

A deep breath. “So, Miss Targaryen--”

 

“It’s Miss Storm now, actually.” she cut in quickly, wanting to move past this bit as briskly as possible. Dwelling on her past failures was not something she was overly fond of, instead preferring to look to the future as often as possible.

 

He raised an eyebrow at her, his eyes still solemn, taking a sip of his tea before cradling the mug in front of him.

 

“Re-branding.” she offered lightly.

 

He continued to study her, his eyes lightening just a bit as he worked to put the clues together. “More like finally spreading the ashes, I’ll bet.”

 

Dany swallowed tightly as he continued, “Three partners in the past 10 years, only winning championships when neither Snow/Wilde or Lannister/Lannister were present. Startling rumors of family indiscretions, as well as torrid affairs with your next two partners, even going so far as to marry one of them after the relationship began under questionable circumstances.”

 

She felt her cheeks flame as her temper ignited, her tongue firing off a response before she could douse her rage as she so often fought to do. “What about you, Jon Snow?” she ignored the warning look in his eyes, plunging ahead, “Pining after a partner, two years passed on? Disappearing from life, work, and competition. Completely abandoning his family and friends in his grief, only to surface after years and attempt to resume life as if nothing had happened? Cursed.”

 

“Cursed,” he hissed, his knuckles white as he struggled to place the mug on the table without sloshing the tea across the tablecloth; Ghost springing up with a low growl from where he had settled in the corner of the room, the tension spiralling dangerously out of control.

 

“Do not. Speak. Of Ygritte.” he ground out.

 

Dany flushed further, feelings of shame now racing through her veins, cooling her flash of anger in a few beats of the heart. “My apologies.” she said cooly, trying to regain her composure and failing just as miserably as he was.

 

“Mine as well.” there was a pause as he drew in a breath, brushing his hand down his face as his jaw sagged with sudden exhaustion. “My statement was uncalled for.”

 

She nodded, now feeling certain that the rumors of him and Ygritte were true. That their volatile and passionate nature had led them from partnership on-ice to off, igniting the inner fire of love and lust that captured so many of the young and talented. She herself was no stranger to that feeling, nor maiden to those urges. But for him to then call her out on similar behavior…

 

“Apology accepted.” she smiled tightly, her fingers drumming on the mug, dispelling the sudden rush of energy. Fighting already. Tyrion would be thrilled.

 

“What did you want to meet with me about, Miss… Storm?” he steepled her fingers and laid them in his lap as he leaned back in his chair.

 

“Dany, please.” she said, leaning slightly forward, mirroring him in an attempt to draw them a bit closer and to repair whatever damage had been done with her sharp tongue.

 

His lips relaxed sightly, even as his eyes darkened again, hazel drifting to a chocolate as he spoke. “Dany…”

 

Gathering her courage like a cloak around her, she decided to take the leap. “Jon Snow. Would you like to be my new Pair’s Skating partner?”

 

He shifted in the seat across from her, uncomfortable at the prospect.

 

“We’re both cursed, Jon Snow. It’s one of the top searches when you type either of our names into Google.” her lips quirked into a small smile. Private, for the two of them only. “Want to help me break this curse? Maybe we can turn it into a blessing. Together.”

 

~*~*~*~*~


	3. Jon - Men's Short Program

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon Snow makes his Olympic debut, faces old friends and enemies, and generally tries to keep it together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey All,
> 
> Sorry this is a bit late-- I'm aiming for Sunday updates, but was having issues accessing Ao3 yesterday. Hopefully those of you following along aren't too displeased with the extra day.
> 
> A note: the song mentioned and my constant companion for writing this chapter was Adele's 'Water Under the Bridge' - those of you who are interested, check out the link to the song below (just a youtube link, nothing fancy)
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_BBvHRB5vQE
> 
> In other news- not sure if this will make it into the fic or not, but in case inquiring minds want to know --  
> Davos lost the fingertips of his right hand in a freak Ice Hockey accident, and was forced into early retirement, his puck handling skills never being quite the same after. Unable to stay away from a career on-ice, he started coaching hockey, only to discover his real love was nurturing talent wherever he could find it. He now manages a number of promising ice related careers in both hockey and figure skating.

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

_ “Ladies and Gentlemen, greetings from PyeongChang. I’m Bob Costas, your host for this 5th day of international competition, Today, Norway continues to lead the medal count, with Germany in a close second. After an unexpected performance in snowboarding, the US trails the leaders in the medal count -- a lead that the United States Olympic Committee hopes to chip away at, starting tonight with the Men’s Figure Skating Short Program. Many watching will remember the surprise of the Team Competition where Team USA took the Bronze medal, although little of the thanks can be awarded to Nathan Chen, gold medal favorite, who uncharacteristically stumbled. Will he be able to turn his attentions to gold tonight, or will the pressure of the Olympic Games claim another victim, opening the door for yet another exceptional talent to come forward? To discover that, I send you  _ **_live_ ** _ to the Gangneung Ice Arena where Terry Gannon, former Ladies’ gold medalist Margaery Tyrell, and former Mens’ bronze medalist Loras Tyrell have the call. Terry?” _

 

_ “Thanks, Bob, and thanks to Margaery and Loras for joining us once more, live, from Gangneung.” Terry nodded to his 2 co-hosts.”Also, all the best to your stylists-- outdoing all of us once again - bringing style and pizzazz to the press box.” _

 

_ Margaery’s classic smirk danced across her face even as her bell like laugh rang out over the airwaves. “Terry, you are such a dear!” she placed a sleight hand on her brother’s arm. ‘We Tyrells simply have an abundance of grace and charm to share with the world. After all, a picture is worth a thousand words!” _

 

_ “Doubtful.” Loras’ self-effacing chuckle joined his sister’s. “We know our real worth is the sharp Tyrell wit.” _

 

_ ‘Speaking of--” Terry gestured to the warm-up happening on the ice behind him. “Let’s talk about tonight’s line up of skaters.” _

 

_ Loras smiled. “Let’s! Personally, I think that this year’s crop of talent is unlike anything I have ever seen. From Japan’s Hanyu and Uno, to Team USA’s Nathan Chen, Adam Rippon, and Jon Snow. Even Spain has a chance at a medal this year.”  _

 

_ “Now, Nathan Chen had a bit of a rough start in the Team Competition--” _

 

_ “He did.” Loras continued. “I managed to catch up with him afterwards, and he was determined to figure out exactly what went wrong in his performance. As many of our viewers are aware, Norovirus is raging its way through the Olympic Village, and the Americans are hoping that it doesn’t ravage it’s way through the Ice Skating teams in the same way it has through the Skiing and Snowboarding teams. Nathan assured me that he was feeling healthy and up to the challenge that faces him here today.” _

 

_ A soft sigh escaped Margaery’s lips. “You disagree, sweet sister?” _

 

_ “I’m afraid I must, dear brother.” Her smirk grew. “I’ve been watching Team USA all week, and although both Nathan and Adam have been doing phenomenally well in practice, I think that this evening will introduce a new star to the pantheon of Men’s Figure Skating.” _

 

_ Terry’s eyebrows drew up. “Oh? Who has captured your eagle eye, Margaery?” _

 

_ “I would think it would be obvious, gentlemen. Jon Snow, of course.” _

 

_ A brief silence rang out before Loras released a nasal laugh. “Jon Snow? Former Pair’s World Champion? I highly doubt he will be a factor in this gold medal race.” _

 

_ “Oh, Loras, you’ve always been a bit short sighted and too easily distracted by flash and athleticism. Jon Snow has a particular grace that he brings to his performances, a softness that we rarely see in the men’s world of skating. I think his years as a Pairs skater has informed his musicality and artistry. His adjustment period to solo competition has not been easy-- he still has problems with connecting to the judges and audience, but he has an excellent manager and coaching staff that have been keeping him in check. He’s even been building a more athletic program than Nathan Chen has prepared, and if he can manage to land all of his quads, I can easily see Jon Snow succeeding today, and making a truly memorable Olympic debut.” _

 

_ “But, what about the curse?” _

 

_ Terry nodded. “For our viewers who may not be aware, Jon Snow has had a number of unfortunate incidents in his career - losing his partner to a freak on-ice accid--” _

 

_ ~*~*~*~*~*~ _

 

The screen suddenly went dark as his phone was snatched from his hands. “What have I told you about watching this shite?” 

 

Jon took a deep breath and raised his eyes to his mentor and manager. “Davos…” he warned.

 

“Jon…” Davos returned the same tone and glare. “I know that you think that the more angry you are, the more clear headed you become and the better you skate, but that is simply not true. Shall I remind you of Nationals?’

 

“I made it here, didn’t I?”

 

“Barely.” Davos stuffed Jon’s phone into his own pocket. “Need I remind you that you came in fourth, and are only here because the 13 year old who came in third hasn’t achieved age eligibility to be here? If you pull that kind of crap tonight and in the Free Skate you’ll be out on your ass faster than you can blink.”

 

Jon clenched his fists. “You know how hard I’ve worked to get here. How much we--  _ I  _ wanted this. How hard  _ I _ had to fight to get here.”

 

“And yet, here you are- willing to throw all that good, hard work away in a heartbeat. You’re risking it all right now flirting with this emotionality.”

 

“Remembering her is always flirting with emotionality, Davos.” Jon heard the hitch in his own voice, and was surprised that even now, picturing her face could still stop his breath, and how his hand always felt empty without her here. Even after all this time.

 

The older man sighed, rubbing his graying beard with his diminished right hand. “I know, lad..” His eyes searched Jon’s steady gaze. “Is that what you’re trying to do today? Remember her?”

 

Jon stood abruptly, moving toward the common area of the backstage arena. “Today it can’t be helped.” He hoped that his terse reply would ward off any further comment from Davos. There were moments when he didn’t mind his mentor hounding him, but right before he was to make his Olympic debut was not one of them.

 

He threw open the door of the dressing room, and Davos stifled a sigh, following his charge into the common area, now bustling in the change over between competitions. The Pairs skaters were just coming off of the ice, making way for the Men’s skaters who were up next in the program.

 

Jon stopped short, suddenly faced with a world he had left abruptly two years ago, and hadn’t looked back. Davos’ hand landing on his shoulder a comforting weight. 

 

“Snow!” a familiar crow of victory rang in his ears before he could decide whether an organized retreat back into his dressing room was in order or not.

 

“Lannister.” Jon said, offering his hand to the much taller blonde man now in front of him.

 

Jaime Lannister took his hand more gently than he had expected, shaking it dutifully before releasing him, his green eyes boring into the darker, sable gaze fixed upon his face. “Men’s competition, eh? Never would have thought I’d see you on the ice without someone else to make that glower of yours more appealing. Can’t eye fuck the judges in the same way you do your partners.” he softened the words with a wink.

 

“Speaking of eye fucking- how’s Cersei?” Jon retorted, and as if the mere speaking of her name had summoned her like a bat out of hell, she appeared, her shorn hair glowing the same shade of gold as her twin’s.

 

“Ah. Jon Snow. I suddenly feel as if I need to remain 10 feet from you at all times. For my own safety, of course.” 

 

Jon clenched his fists, his jaw tightening as he took in her cold appearance. “Cersei, always a displeasure.”

 

Jaime, at least, had the decency to look apologetic, and took his sister by the shoulders- steering her away before the confrontation could escalate any further. “Skate well, Snow.” Jon nodded in his direction. Jaime Lannister might not be the most decent human he had ever met, but the man tried at least.

 

Davos shook his head. “Always unpleasant, the Lannisters. Too bad they are excellent competitors. Took first in the Pairs Short Program.”

 

Jon snorted. “Explains why Cersei was so warm. Tyrion will be sad to have missed her in such an excellent mood.”

 

For the second time is as many minutes, his words magically summoned the mentioned Lannister. “Are they gone?”

 

“Chickenshit.” Davos ribbed.

 

“After surviving the Lannister Legacy and successfully escaping the clutches of the one and only Tywin, Ice Lion of the Rock, I have no desire to willingly put myself in a sure path of destruction and instability.” the shorter man’s brow was knit with his classic look of concern.

 

“They’re supposed to be doing much better now that they have a new coach.” Davos said.

 

Jon shrugged. “Cersei’s the same as ever. I doubt that adding another blonde woman to their team has done much to improve her outlook.”

 

“No, but they are winning championships again under Brienne’s coaching.” Tyrion folded his arms across his chest, now keenly interested in the retreating backs of his siblings.

 

“There’s one other key difference.” Jon’s ominous comment hung in the air as he turned on his heel and dropped to the mat, starting his stretching routine - the first part of his warm-up and effectively dismissing the other men. He held out his hand to Davos as he passed, and Davos placed his phone and headphones back in his palm.

 

Right now he needed to focus. He needed to be alone with his thoughts, alone with his routine, his music, his memories, and most importantly - his pain.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

  
  


_  “All right, boys.” Margaery’s smile belied the grim tone her voice had taken on. “Now we see if my premonitions are correct. Jon Snow is taking the ice now, and will officially make his Olympic debut to Adele’s ‘Water Under the Bridge’. Nathan Chen is officially out of medal contention, now placing 15th with two skaters left to go. Team USA’s Jon Snow, and Spain’s Javier Fernandez.” _

 

_ “This is a new program for Snow,” Loras said. “He first appeared with it at Nationals just a few short moths ago - wowing the audience with his stunning performance. He would later bobble in the Free Skate, placing 4th overall.” _

 

_ Terry nodded. “He seems to find an resonant inner quality with this program that his solo career has been lacking up until now. For someone who had no issues expressing himself with a partner, it was surprising to the rest of the world that he seems so unable to connect with audiences without one.” _

 

_ “Snow has always been an extremely private individual, notorious both on and off the ice for his singular focus, and quiet manner. Tonight, we shall see if he can reveal that same passion he was able to summon at Nationals.” Margaery leaned forward, intent on the solitary figure in black below. “When I spoke to him earlier this week, Jon verified that he would be repeating his Short Program from Nationals here. I asked him where the inspiration had come from-- and in typical Jon Snow fashion, he refused to answer, simply saying that he owed his openness and performance to someone very specific, and that it would be unfair to tell me before he revealed himself to them.” _

 

_ “Nevertheless, artistry will only take you so far. He has to stay on his feet,” Loras added, “His athleticism has grown exponentially over the last two years, but lately Jon has struggled with being able to piece together a solid program beginning to end.” _

 

_ The music began, the energetic beat catching the crowd by surprise, having been lulled into a calm inertness by the last few lackluster skates. “You can feel the energy shifting in the building just through the music.” Margaery intoned, as Jon began to move to the beat, his powerful legs stroking forward across the ice, his speed gathering as he lept for his opening jump pass, igniting a gasp of excitement from the announcers and crows alike as he nailed his opening quad lutz. _

 

_ “Yes!” Terry pumped his fist, and launched into yet another on-air description of the new point scoring system, the live color coded boxes beginning to glow green with every successful jump, every perfect spin, every stellar combination, element, and flawless landing as Jon poured himself out to the audience, the judges-- sending more and more of his essence into the arena, drawing everyone into the song, and his journey within the music. _

 

_ “His coach, Tyrion Lannister, and manager Davos Seaworth, have been really encouraging Jon to reach within himself lately, to find something that will bring his programs to life in a way that he had been unable to do so before this year.” Terry said, _

 

_ Margaery smilled fully as Jon struck his final triumphant pose. “I think they’ve found it.” she said as the crowd surged as one to their feet, applauding as Jon took his bows, scooping up a single blue rose as he skated toward the Kiss and Cry, Tyrion and Davos near tackling him in a hug as all three celebrated the exceptional skate.  _

 

_ “Now we just have to wait to see if the judges have found it too. Personally, I think that no matter the outcome, the King of Winter has found himself, and will be crowned again.”  _

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Water Under the Bridge - Adele

 

If you're not the one for me  
Then how come I can bring you to your knees  
If you're not the one for me  
Why do I hate the idea of being free?  
And if I'm not the one for you  
You've gotta stop holding me the way you do  
Oh honey if I'm not the one for you  
Why have we been through what we have been through

It's so cold out here in your wilderness   
I want you to be my keeper   
But not if you are so reckless   
If you're gonna let me down, let me down gently   
Don't pretend that you don't want me   
Our love ain't water under the bridge   
If you're gonna let me down, let me down gently   
Don't pretend that you don't want me   
Our love ain't water under the bridge   
Say that our love ain't water under the bridge

What are you waiting for?   
You never seem to make it through the door   
And who are you hiding from?   
It ain't no life to live like you're on the run   
Have I ever asked for much?   
The only thing that I want is your love   
If you're gonna let me down, let me down gently   
Don't pretend that you don't want me   
Our love ain't water under the bridge   
If you're gonna let me down, let me down gently   
Don't pretend that you don't want me   
Our love ain't water under the bridge   
Say that our love ain't water under the bridge

It's so cold in your wilderness   
I want you to be my keeper   
But not if you are so reckless   
If you're gonna let me down, let me down gently   
Don't pretend that you don't want me   
Our love ain't water under the bridge   
If you're gonna let me down, let me down gently   
Don't pretend that you don't want me   
Our love ain't water under the bridge   
Say it ain't so, say it ain't so   
Say that our love ain't water under the bridge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can all see-- trying some things with style and time jumps. Hopefully everyone is following along in the way I intend, but if you have any questions, feel free to ask!
> 
> Also, nothing against Mike Tirico, but Bob Costas will always have my Olympic loving heart. Even though this fiction is based in a level of reality (the non GoT skaters mentioned are real), I can have it any way I want, and I want Bob.
> 
> Thanks for taking the time to read <3


	4. Dany - Fire and Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had taken weeks to get him to agree to the partnership. Their first meeting had ended cordially enough, with Jon asking for time to think over his decision and agreeing to get back to Dany by the week’s end. She had felt hopeful for the first time in a long while at that, confident that he would be won to her cause easily enough.
> 
> And then the questions began...

~*~*~*~*~*~

It had taken weeks to get him to agree to the partnership. Their first meeting had ended cordially enough, with Jon asking for time to think over his decision and agreeing to get back to Dany by the week’s end. She had felt hopeful for the first time in a long while at that, confident that he would be won to her cause easily enough.

And then the questions began - who would coach? (Tyrion, duh.) Who would manage? (She’d been managing herself for years, thank you very much.) Who would choreograph? (Dei, also duh.) What were her skill strengths? (“You have seen me skate before, right?”) Why was she convinced that they would make a good team? (“Well, we’re very close in height, you see.” … That joke had gone over like gangbusters...) Was this a play for endorsements? (No, but new ones were bound to come in if they started winning! “Rolling in dough, Snow!” - that joke had also died a miserable death. Did this man never laugh? At this point Dany would have settled for a snarl that she mistook for a smirk.) Would she be moving to Massachusetts as he outright refused to join her and Tyrion in Montreal where they had established a home base, Dragonstone having proved woefully inadequate in the ice skating arena department. (“Um, what?!”)

Those were the “reasonable” questions. The unreasonable demands came pouring in soon after. Jon wanted veto power on any and all music selections, he had a list of skills that he would not -- under any circumstances perform, he wanted first right of refusal for all future endorsement contract negotiations, and most unreasonable of all, he refused to meet with her one on one at any point in the future. “To ensure a professional atmosphere was attained at all times.” his manager explained.

Dany wanted nothing more than to give Jon Snow a piece of her mind to feast, choke, and then die upon. Where did he get off dictating how she comported herself professionally, or otherwise? Her past was none of his damn business. She had made her choices, and she was the one who had to live with the consequences, not Mister High and Mighty Jon “Insert His Middle Name Here” Snow. What kind of surname was “Snow” anyway? Dany would bet odds to even money that it wasn’t even his given name -- for a man named Snow to have an ice skating career was too convenient. Her sense of irony may never recover.

“He’s being childish and unreasonable.” she told Tyrion, her mind spinning and frothing the more she thought about the situation at hand. “And certainly thinks rather highly of himself, wouldn’t you agree?”

Tyrion shook his head, his hand reaching for the glass of 2011 pinot noir that Dany had poured him moments before, knowing that he would need fortification for what was to come. “Some of these sound like an opening volley of negotiations to me. He can’t possibly think that you would agree to all of these demands.”

‘Well, it sounds like we will need a lawyer, as this contract will be anything but standard.” she bit out, her frustration getting the better of her as she rubbed the back of her neck, her shoulders tight as the stress radiated down her spine. She fought back a groan as she thought about the amount of time it would take to stretch properly and ease the tension away so that she would be able to work. 

“I know a few contract attorneys.” Tyrion sipped his wine. “In the meantime, I suggest that you think about what you would like to gain from this partnership, and how it could be best used to our mutual advantage.”

Dany stared at her coach sullenly, knowing that he was correct, but still feeling a flush of annoyance that ran deeper than it had any right to after only one face to face meeting and a number of conference calls in which she, Jon, Tyrion, and Jon’s manager Davos had been engaged. Maybe that’s what she was smarting from. It was never fun to have someone insinuate that you couldn’t keep it in your pants, but for a potential partner to put it in the terms of the fucking contract? That was a new low.

“You’re far away.”

She sighed. “Wouldn’t you be?”

“ _ I  _ would be trying to find a way to turn his demands to my advantage. Give him something, by giving him nothing. Knowing that you will have to say yes to some of these, what are  _ your  _ non-negotiables? How do you say yes on your terms? What do you want from this partnership, other than a new start, and hopefully an amended reputation?”

“I want to win.”

“We all want to win, my dear girl. Now we just have to figure out how.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

In the end, she had packed up her life and moved from Montreal to Massachusetts with nothing but a suitcase and three cats. She rented a tiny one bedroom apartment near the arena and called it a day. In return, Jon Snow agreed to Tyrion remaining as her (now their) coach, Davos’ management of them both (and subsequent equal representation when it came to endorsement deals), as well as lightening up his terms on music, skills, and at the very least, acknowledging that she would not be taking a separate elevator from him should they be unexpectedly left without chaperones of any kind. 

“I am a fucking adult, Jon, and the last time I checked, so are you. Police your own damn self.” were the exact words that had finally broken through his obstinate demeanor, a brief twitch of the lips that could perhaps have been construed as amusement? She may never know for certain, however she highly doubted it.

“Nothing personal.” he shrugged. 

Dany glared in return. “It’s figure skating, Jon. It’s always personal.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

She had been awake since 4am- tossing and turning through the early morning hours. She didn’t know if it was the jetlag, the air mattress she was currently sleeping on as she waited for the rest of her belongings and furniture to arrive later this week, or the anxiety. Probably a mix of all three.

Dany just couldn’t shake the haunted look in Jon’s eyes when they had finally agreed upon the final terms of the contract and shaken hands-- the searing glare that seemed to harden into some foolhardy resolve that she didn’t understand, while his calloused fingers gripped hers tightly enough that the bones in her hand shifted. His need to be stubborn and unyielding had always been apparent, and how Ygritte had handled him in these broodish moods was beyond her. Dany hoped she learned quickly, otherwise she ran the risk of having  _ four _ former partners in the past ten years. She doubted there would be any coming back after that.

Jon Snow was effectively her last chance at her dreams. The trifecta of figure skating- ISU Grand Prix, World Championships, and the Olympics. She had fought so long and so hard to get where she was, sacrificing so much along the way.

She and her brother, Viserys no longer spoke. Court mandated orders prevented any further familial interaction. Her divorce from Drogo had finalized just 2 years prior - irreconcilable differences- that which covered all manner of sins when it came to divorce. And her last partnership… Well, the less time she spent thinking on Daario, the better. That had been her only true mistake - chasing something that she had no right to, and then cutting him loose as soon as it became obvious that he was a dead end. Both personally and professionally.

_ In your wake, you leave nothing but the ashes of those who care about you. _

Dany flopped over onto her stomach, vaguely nauseous now as she glanced at the clock. 

_ 4:37 AM _

She fumbled for the lamp she had set out next to the air mattress, the only sounds the indignant grunts from Drogon, Viserion, and Rheagal as they stretched and blinked at her, having just returned to her bed after their 3am crazy times. Sitting up slowly so as not to dump any of them off of the air mattress unexpectedly, she reached for Drogon, the oldest and largest of the litter of kittens she had adopted while in Montreal. Dany pulled him close to her, stroking his ears gently as his purr rumbled to life, the vibrations emanating from his chest and soaking into Dany as she held him close.

Drogon’s golden eyes shone in the shadows of her new bedroom. While not large by any stretch of the imagination, having no furniture and nothing but blank white walls staring at her made the room seem cavernous and empty. Just like the gaping hole in her chest.

She had to make this work. For all of their sakes. She knew that Tyrion had put all his hope in her. Choosing her for his abdication from his family’s on-ice legacy may seem like a risky venture to some, but she was bound and determined not to let him down. Not to mention, Jorah, Dei, and all the rest who had come to count on her over the years. The family she had chosen when hers had gone to absolute shit.

Abandoning the hope of getting back to sleep, Dany scratched Drogon’s chin one last time, throwing the covers back over the other two lazing at the end of the bed, knowing they would spend most of the day burrowed under her blankets and getting to know their new home.

Their mother had someone else to get to know.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Dany’s used Silver pulled into the parking lot at precisely 8:42 AM. Determined to make a good impression for their first practice session together, she had spent the night before packing her gym bag, and putting more thought into her outfit than she had ever before. She had finally settled on a charcoal leotard and leggings, and a maroon sweater wrapped around her waist for when they set foot on the ice.

Tyrion had set a rather subdued schedule for their first day together, warm-ups would begin at 9am, followed by two 2 hour sessions on-ice with a lunch break in between. They would skate, talk, and hopefully start building the bridges of successful partnerships and trust.

Trust was key.

A tap on her window startled her, her hands hitting the horn on her steering wheel in surprise. She glanced to her left and let out a sigh of relief. “Jorah,” she scolded, opening the door and reaching into the passenger seat for her gym bag. “You scared me shitless.”

“You weren’t supposed to drive here alone,” the creases around his stark blue eyes intensified with his obvious concern. “Not until we know the lay of the land.” 

“We have all moved to Nowheresville, Massachusetts, Jorah. Who out here is going to hurt me?”

“You know that’s not the point, Daenerys.”

“Dany.” she corrected automatically. One way or another, she would drag Jorah into the present with her. When he didn’t answer, she sighed, knowing that he was right. He had been with her for years - Viserys’ and her first coach. He had witnessed the horrors of that partnership, and had stuck with her all these years, acting as the head of her security detail since the trials.

“We can never be too careful.” he said, taking the bag from her hands and hefting it over his shoulder.

Properly chastised, Dany nodded and followed him into the arena, through the corridors to the greenroom where various mats and exercise machines had been set up for her and Jon’s use. Jorah set her bag on the floor and took his place just outside the room. Habit took over from there as she lifted the water bottle out of her bag, set it on the floor closest to the mirror, and flopped down onto one of the mats as she removed her sneakers and sweater, spreading both legs as wide as they would go as she leaned forward into her first stretch of the day.

She nearly groaned as she felt the pull of the muscles and tendons - tight from the days of travel, moving, and non-use. Even when going through long periods of being off-ice, Dany tried to maintain her flexibility and tone, but there was always an adjustment period after time away.

The sound of a throat clearing behind her brought her eyes up to the mirror, locking gazes with Jon’s reflection. “Oh.” she stood quickly, turning to face him, seeing Tyrion and Davos entering the room behind Jon. “Good morning.” He had his hair down this morning, the dark curls falling over his forehead in a way that made him seem younger than he had before, his face clean shaven of the scruff he had sported the other times she had seen him.

He said nothing, just stared at her for a moment longer before turning and dropping his bag on the floor on the opposite wall as hers. She bristled at the rude treatment, opening her mouth to lash him with her words when she saw Tyrion motioning frantically for her to let it be, to please,  _ please _ not start the morning in such a manner. She huffed out a breath, throwing her braid over her shoulder once more and dropping back to the mat, continuing her split stretches and steadfastly ignoring all of their reflections in the mirror. Especially Jon’s, with his still damp hair, his searing gazes that spoke volumes (if only she could find the translation), and his toned body - his t-shirt hugging the curves of his broad shoulders tightly...

Shaking her head, Dany paused for a moment to put her earbuds in, choosing to lose herself in her warm-up mix rather than subject herself to the loudest silence she had ever experienced in her life. If Jon Snow didn’t want to talk, they didn’t have to talk.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Dany’s cry of frustration echoed through the arena as her bum crashed to the ice for the -- you know? She had no idea, having lost track of how many times she had fallen in the last hour. “Goddammit!” she bit out, hauling herself upright again- Jon couldn’t be bothered to help her it seemed, and rubbed at the sharp ache just above her tailbone. It hadn’t been that long since she had been on the ice, but she was paying for the time away tenfold today.

“You’re landing too far back on your edge.” the mumbled words were barely audible.

She whirled on him, the flames of her frustration and fury licking ever closer to the surface. Every humiliation she was suffering today, every slight that his mere presence was inflicting, every time she caught him fucking staring at her, but refusing to speak to her, landing like a blow to her gut. “Excuse me?” Even those that didn’t know her should have recognized the dangerously quiet tone.

Jon looked her directly in the eye for the first time today, his dark eyes glinting in the harsh fluorescent lighting of the arena. “You’re landing too far back on your edge.” he repeated himself.

“Jon-” Tyrion’s warning tone sounded across the ice.

“I’m sorry-” Dany said incredulously, something inside of her snapping. “Not even a ‘Good morning’, and  _ now _ you have something to fucking say?”

“I was just-”

“We have a fucking coach, Jon Snow.  _ He _ can tell me what I’m doing wrong.”

“Well, you are landing too far back on your--”

“No one asked you, Tyrion!” she shot him a warning look across the ice, gliding over the retrieve her water, taking a frustrated pull from the bottle.

Jon skidded to a stop beside her, reaching for his own water bottle and clenching it in his hands, the metal making a strained sound. “I don’t see what your problem is - you are the one that keeps falling and seemingly can’t do anything to correct it, I’m simply trying to--”

“You are simply trying to kick me while I’m down.” she snarled. “No one asked you to coach me, Jon. In fact, I seem to remember asking you to be my partner,  _ not  _  my coach. You’ve fought me every inch of the way, so I have no idea why I thought today might be any different--”

“Dany…” Tyrion warned.

She kept going, feeling her nostrils flaring. “--why I thought that maybe, today you would show up as a human instead of this shell of a person who does nothing but remain stubbornly silent unless he has an objection, or something criticising to say.”

“Dany!”

“Someone who-”

“Enough!” Tyrion’s voice echoed through the empty seats. “Dany, laps.”

Dany spun on him, her hands grabbing onto the wall for balance as she leaned forward to face him. “What--”

“Daenerys.” Her mouth snapped shut at the use of her full name. The succinct reminder of her history, everything she was trying to change-- on the verge of being recklessly tossed away before they really gave themselves a chance. She shoved off without a backwards glance, starting the requisite set of 20 laps Tyrion always issued when her temper got the better of her. Normally by lap 5 she would have cooled off enough to have a level-headed conversation. Today it might take more.

How dare he-- Jon Snow might have been quite impressive in his prime, but who was he to offer criticism, especially when it was his fault that she was in her current state. After being off-ice for the past two years he was so stiff, every move, every jump, was a concentrated effort. It didn’t help that so far he had refused to touch her, refused to even take her hand in his own, Tyrion giving into his subtle peer pressure and assuring her that they would “work up to it.”

These idiots did realize that over 80% of the elements in Pair’s Skating involved the partners touching in some way, yes? She huffed out a frustrated breath, eyeing the two of them as she passed on her lap, their heads bent together- the low murmur of voices fading as she passed, increasing her speed as her heart rate skyrocketed, needing the speed and the feeling of the cold air rushing past her face and hair to calm her sudden fit of anger. 

And hurt, if she was completely honest with herself. She had hoped that her hunch about him would prove true. That they would make a formidable pair and take the world by storm, but yet again she could feel her impulsiveness giving way to reality. It was all she could do to not slide to the ice in defeat.

And yet… He had been trying to help her. Since he hadn’t bothered to get to know her yet, he had little idea that she really only took instruction from those she trusted, those who had proven themselves to her. Perhaps, Jon could one day join those ranks, however that day was not today.

“Oh, Your Grace--” Tyrion motioned for her to join him at the wall, ignoring her look of outrage and subsequent glance in Jon’s direction, trying to gauge his reaction as she felt heat rushing to her cheeks.

“What have I told you about--”

“Spare me.” Tyrion snapped, his frustration getting the better of him as well. It had been a long day for them all, it seemed. “You have been acting every inch the Dragon Queen since negotiations started, and I, for one, am getting tired of it.”

“He’s being impossible.”

Tyrion’s answering glare could have frozen a desert oasis. “He’s not the only one.” he held up a hand before she could protest any further. “Stop. I’ve already spoken to Jon, and now it’s your turn. Drop whatever attitude you have brought into this arena this morning. You’re both here, you both claim to want to be here, and yet I’m having a hard time believing either of you. And if you can’t convince me that this is what you truly want, you will never succeed in convincing any set of judges or audiences of that either.”

Dany didn’t answer, folding her arms tightly across her chest. “You can’t have expected this to be easy.” Tyrion continued, his tone softening ever so slightly. “Fire and Ice can never coexist without some uncomfortability. They’re not symbiotic Dany, they’re opposites.”

She refrained from replying with “Duh.”, but only just, instead glaring at him through her lowered lashes as she studied the laces on her skates.

Tyrion sighed, finally reaching for one of her hands and giving it a gentle squeeze. “There can be power in opposition, my dear. But only if you use that opposition to propel each other forward, not to hold each other back.” Dany nodded, conceding the point. “Now I suggest that you drop this Dragon Queen facade, try to meet him where he’s at, and go skate laps until you  _ both  _ agree that this is truly what you want.”

Dany nodded, not meeting his eye as she was not quite ready to admit to being partially in the wrong. But, she took to the ice anyway, sensing Jon about ten feet behind her and slowing his pace so as not to pass her-- hovering. She slowly loosened the defensive posture of her arms and let them fall to her sides, swinging them to build up speed. She closed her eyes and spread her arms to either side, gliding and relishing the crispness in the air, her tension loosening with each additional lap. 

She had almost regained her equilibrium when she felt it -- the same calloused hand she had touched exactly one time slipping into hers, his pace and stride matching hers perfectly. She drew in a surprised breath, fearing to glance over at him in case she spooked him back into hiding. Instead, she slowed slightly, letting him take the lead as they continued the laps, following him as the subtle shifts as his hands told her the direction he wanted them to go, the speed. His thumb caught on the back of her hand, sliding slowly over the smooth, cold skin before shifting his grip, his other hand coming to rest on her waist. 

She was shocked to feel the warmth of his touch through her sweater. Somehow she had expected his hands to be like the rest of him, cold and stiff, yet she was beginning to realize that his fingers held an expressiveness all of their own. The way they danced across hers, tangling slightly as they touched-- each hand memorizing the feel of the other. The hand at her waist was larger than she had thought, spanning over her ribs, and searching for her hip through the sweater. She leaned into the grasp, needing to learn the subtlety of his touches, his particular style of leading. Would it be soft and feather like, or more forceful and powerful?

Finally, she felt the firm pressure on her hip- his signal to turn and face him, asking her to trust that he could guide her as she flew backwards, not knowing her exact position except for the place she held in his arms. She hesitated for only a moment, not wanting her sluggishness to be construed as hostility, before throwing herself over the first of many cliffs of trust that the sport of figure skating held.

Dany spun around slowly, her free hand now settling on his shoulder, the top of her head coming level with his eyes. A good height match, all things considered. She studied his shirt carefully, her fingers rubbing against the wool of his black sweater, her gaze drifting upwards. His adam’s apple bobbed slightly as he swallowed, his jaw tight, the tension in his face obvious in the rigidness of his cheeks and the crow’s feet emanating from the sides of his eyes.

_ His eyes… _

Dany felt her breath hitch in her chest as his eyes studied her, currently landing on her intricate braids- a softness there she had yet to see in them. Her grip on his shoulder tightened involuntarily, and he mistook her stiffening for fear. 

“I’ve got you.” he murmured, the hand on her waist moving to lengthen along her spine, drawing her in closer to keep their centers of gravity aligned so they did not go crashing as one into each other and the ice. She nodded and commanded her muscles to relax, following his lead once more as he spun her out to his side, resuming the simplicity of the laps, his hand never leaving hers.

~*~*~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slow burn is slow, y'all. :)
> 
> Thanks for stopping by! Feel free to say hi in the comments!


	5. Jon - Let the Games Being

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hi Dei. Sorry for all of the videos, this is the last one- promise.” he paused for a moment, staring at the cauldron in the distance, taking comfort from the fact that for the next sixteen days this flame would burn and serve as a beacon to them all.
> 
> \-- in which Jon Snow feels some feelings and the 2018 Olympics officially open.

~*~*~*~*~*~

He held her hand firmly within his own. 

 

Jon felt the ghost of a smile cross his face, his eyes drifting closed as he glided across the ice. His hair ruffled in the cool breeze, and he took a deep breath, taking stock of his surroundings as he opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was snow. Snow as far as the eye could see-- the early morning rays of sunlight glimmering across the drifts. Pine trees surrounded the tiny pond, adding a splash of color to the world, however the deep greens and earthy browns paled in comparison to  _ her _ .

 

She was ethereal. No, she was more than that-- she was  _ breathtaking _ \-- a riot of color exploding from her tiny body. Her hair first the color of the sun, then with the next breath the color of the moon. Always changing, but ever the color of light-- the glow around her growing and pulsing with life.

 

He tightened his grip on her small hand, her delicate fingers crushed in his desperate need to keep her close, to not let her slip away as she had every time before. He felt her reassuring squeeze on his fingers as she increased their speed, her hand shifting in his own as she turned in his arms to face him.

 

This was always the part he dreaded. To gaze upon her face and know that with every day that passed, some other detail would fade. The exact shade of her lips, the curl of her eyelashes. He saw her only in the broadest of strokes now, the palate of  _ her _ dimming over time.

 

He brought a hand to her cheek, pressing closer, desperate to revel in the nearness of her as thunder rolled. Her chuckle echoed out across the ice, and his grasp on her waist tightened, trying in vain to pull her closer. “Storms cannot break me, Jon Snow.” Her smile as brilliant as the sun as the rain spattered down, the ice inexplicably changing to the rain soaked streets of his hometown, the glow of the lantern lights gleaming across the pavement as she spun out of his arms. Puddles were everywhere, the rain dripping, dropping as she led him forward, her feet now encased in green rain boots with white polka dots, splashing a path to home.

 

Her hand changed in his grip - the fingers now longer and more calloused, yet no less familiar. Impatient, she tugged him forward, another clap of thunder sounding as a bolt of lightning lit the sky, igniting their world in spark and flame-- a rough wind sweeping them into the air and they clung to each other. A desperate nature took over them as hands grappled for a hold on each other and the empty space around them. Her eyes shifting from the color of steel, to the color of earth, to the color of the sky, to the color of the growing storm clouds-- the only constant her hand in his.

 

The winds raged at them both, equally forcing them together and driving them apart, yet he stubbornly refused to loose his grip on her hand. Suddenly everything became still and quiet- only the sounds of their breathing in unison as in a flash they were returned to the winter pond and the scraping of their skates as they circled the rink together.

 

“Come on, Jon.” her melodic voice was soft as she turned from him, her speed increasing as she flew across the ice. Jon sped up, struggling to keep pace with her as she led him across the ice. “It’s time.” Her powerful thighs driving her forward faster and faster as he pelted behind her, his breathing labored as his grip on her fingers started to slip.

 

“Wait--” he panted, wanting to take a moment to breathe and wipe the sweat from his brow but knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that time was almost up, time was running out, time would return to its ever forward march with or without him. His cry of frustration rang out across the ice as her hand finally slipped from his fingers, the guilt of it crashing down before--

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Jon woke with a start, his heart pounding in his chest as his hands clenched involuntarily at his sides, the emptiness overwhelming him. He took a shaky breath, rubbing his hands briskly across his face as he struggled to compose himself.

 

A dream. Nothing more. He took another deep breath, waiving Davos off as the older man gave him a sidelong look. He said nothing, only pressing the call button to summon the flight attendant, quietly asking for a glass of water as the petite Korean woman in the sky blue uniform nodded and scurried off quickly, the concern in her eyes matching that of his mentor’s exactly.

 

“I’m fine.” Jon said as the flight attendant returned, glass of water in hand. His hands betrayed him though, shaking so much that some of the water spilled. Davos finally took pity on him, taking the cup and setting it aside on his tray table.

 

Jon closed his eyes, not wanting to see the looks of concern transpiring between Davos and Tyrion, sitting directly across the aisle. His hands clenched the armrests of his seat as he tried to control his breathing.  _ In, one, two three. Out, one two three. _ After a few moments he opened his eyes, and this time he successfully took the water, draining it in one anxious gulp.

 

Neither Davos, nor Tyrion said a word, although the latter’s eyebrows had now taken residence near his hairline and Jon once again waived them off. “Just a dream.” he said, although whether it was to assure them or himself, he did not know.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The next few days passed in a blur. South Korea opened their arms to Olympians the world over, embracing each of the competitors as family and doing their absolute best to showcase the beauty and talent they had to offer. Team USA settled into the Olympic village with Tyrion ever grumbling about the “basic” accommodations. To Jon they were more plush than anything he had come to expect after a life on the road of international competition. Perhaps a bit loud for his tastes given that the figure skaters were housed in the same complex as the hockey players and the temperaments of the two groups did not exactly coincide, but more than he was expecting, nonetheless.

 

Tyrion set a ambitious schedule for him for the first two days, wanting him to acclimate quickly to the altitude, all the while bemoaning the fact that they had never taken the time to train at altitude in at the Olympic Training Center in Colorado Springs. Four hours of gym and weight work in the morning, followed by two hours on ice in rotation with the rest of the Men’s skaters. A brief break in the afternoon for dinner, and then back to the gym for another hour or so before Jon hit the pillow every night too exhausted to think, much less feel anything other than vague excitement over the upcoming days- the Opening Ceremony first and foremost in his thoughts.

 

_ Think of it, Jon-- it must be the most exciting feeling in the world! The moments before there are winners and losers, and we are all just Olympians - equals. Every day is a new beginning-- no mistakes in it yet! _

 

To Jon, it went beyond just that- his pride at being able to represent his country as a first time Olympian was unmatched. To have been chosen as some of the best and brightest the US had to offer, and to have that moment on the world’s stage was a privilege he would never forget.

 

That evening as he was walking back to his room after dinner, hoping to call it a night and knock off for the rest of the evening to get some much needed rest;  he saw Davos waving him over to where he and Tyrion had gathered in the lobby of Team USA’s villa, his phone in hand. “Come say hi to Butterfly!” he called.

 

Jon smiled, and headed over willingly enough, his mind suddenly spinning. “Is she--”

 

“She’s at home.” Tyrion replied, returning his conversation to the woman with curls the color of cinnamon on the screen in Davos’ hand.

 

“Hi, Dei.” Jon leaned into the frame, waving as Dei waved back. “What time is it there?”

 

Dei squinted in the early morning sun, shielding her eyes from the glare off the snowbanks surrounding her. “Hi, Jon! We’re thirteen hours behind you, so around 6:30 AM. Just got done shoveling the drive when Davos called to give me the official Olympic village tour.”

 

“You’d better watch him, he’s made more friends than we have so far, so it’s likely a long ass tour.”

 

Dei laughed. “He is the most personable of you three, so I’m not surprised.”

 

“Missandei!” Tyrion clutched his chest. “I am hurt!”

 

“Tyrion, you are a delight-” Dei smiled gently.

 

Tyrion let out a “Hmmpf.” tapping his foot as he fixed her with what Jon was sure Tyrion felt was an imposing glare. “But--?”

 

“But I’m not getting into this over facetime.” she teased, the light shifting as she moved from outdoors to in, the familiar surroundings of her apartment now filling the frame, a chorus of  _ meows _ bellowing through the speakers. “I know, I know, you’re hungry,” she crooned. “Guys, I need to let you go, must feed the beasts.” She stopped to pick up something, a giant black feline face coming into view as she lifted Drogon into frame and waved one of his little paws.

 

“Hi Drogon,” the three men chorused, more out of old habits than any particular want to say hello to a cat, a brief moment of silence ringing out before Missandei hastily put the cat down. “Davos, can I speak to Jon for a moment?”

 

“Anything for you, Butterfly,” the older man winked at her, and handed the phone to Jon, taking Tyrion by the shoulder and guiding him towards Germany House and the best ale that could be found in the Olympic Village.

 

“Bye, Dei!” Tyrion called, willingly allowing himself to be pulled away.

 

Jon tucked himself into a plush chair in the corner of the lobby and slumped down to attempt to gain a bit more privacy. Dei studied him for a moment, her golden eyes warm as she regarded him. “How’s the step sequence going there?” Thankfully shifting into choreographer mode instead of that of a mother hen.

 

“It’s been all right.” he offered, shrugging. “The ice is a bit weird here.”

 

“Probably the altitude,” she mused. “Just make sure that your edges are long and clean. You want to make sure that you get every available point in this new system, especially given the competition you’re going up against.”

 

Jon saluted. “Yes, ma’am.” His grin faltered slightly, “Any changes with-?”

 

Dei’s expression softened, the sympathy obvious in her eyes. “No. Nothing.”

 

The pang in his chest sharpened painfully before he took a deep breath and nodded. “I figured, just wanted to… You know...”

 

“I know. We all want--”

 

Jon cut her off, blinking furiously against the sudden wave of emotion crashing over him. “Dei, I’m sorry, I have to--”

 

“Go, go!” she waved at him, shifting the camera so he could see both her and Drogon sitting on the counter next to her. “Just remember, you promised--”

 

“I know.” Jon grimaced in a way he hoped Dei misconstrued as a tight smile. He wished Dei hadn’t remembered the rash promises he had made while trying to explain himself to her. “I’ll send it to you after the ceremony. Can’t see how it will help as nothing else has--”

 

“Every little bit helps, Jon.” Dei chided, shaking her head. “We just have to be patient.”

 

“Not my best attribute, I’m afraid.”

 

“For any of us.” Dei agreed. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there, but we’ll all be here, cheering you on from home!”

 

Jon nodded. “Thanks. It means a lot.” he waved. “Give the cats a scritch from us, and we’ll see you all soon.” The rest of the words stuck like a dam in his throat, unable to move as he swallowed tightly.

 

Sensing his discomfort, Dei took pity on him and signed off. “Skate well, Jon.” she said quietly as the screen went dark in his hand.

 

Only when the casing on the phone squeaked in protest did Jon realize how tightly he was holding Davos’ phone and mentally shook himself, releasing the death grip he had established. He had to get ahold of himself. The Opening Ceremonies were the next night, and he wasn’t sure he could do this, promise or no.

 

“You were supposed to be here with me, you know?” he sighed, staring at the dark phone in his hand. “I wasn’t supposed to have to go through this alone.”

 

He wasn’t expecting an answer, not after all this time, but the silence still stung in a way that he found unpredictable. Most days a dull ache that seemed to settle in his chest, weighing him down, but on days like today-- the ache sharpened into stabbing pain, reminiscent of those first days of being lost and alone.

 

With a sigh, he shoved himself up and out of the chair, opting for leaving Davos’ phone at the front desk rather than searching through the rambunctious crowds. Instead he texted Tyrion that he was off to bed and that he would see them both in the morning.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Jon had never been so happy to have ready access to technology in his entire life. The rise of the cell phone was not often something that he lauded, but he felt as if he would never be able to accurately describe the buzz and bustle of the Opening Ceremonies to someone who had not experienced it before. He was more than thankful that he could record the entire thing on his iPhone and show it to anyone who asked rather than depend on his non-poetic sense of self to describe anything.

 

Still… the energy was electric-- the excitement and pride giving way to awe and wonder as the show played out before the athletes and the world. Each sight and sound more impressive than the last-- and the scope! Jon could hardly keep his jaw from dropping as five hundred female drummers played perfectly, their hearts and souls laid bare on the world’s stage in such a phenomenal presentation.

 

Jon videoed everything, sending brief snippets to his cousins who were unable to make the journey with him to South Korea, and especially enjoying Arya’s response of **“R they all ladies???? WUT? BADASS!!!”**

 

And then suddenly- it was time. The Parade of Nations had always been her favorite part of any Olympics- he knew because she had told him again and again and again. Even when she was forced to watch from a distant corner of the world, dreams dashed and disappointed, she had fairly glowed with pride watching the athletes come together under an idealistic banner of competition and sportsmanship. In his mind, she had rarely looked more beautiful than in that moment, her fierce determination blazing in her light eyes. 

 

_ Next time, Jon Snow. _

 

Jon quickly ducked to the side of the corridor, wanting to be recording by the time he took to the track, Davos and Tyrion with him, both nodding to him their readiness. With a deep breath he hit record.

 

“Hi Ladies. A promise is a promise, I guess, so here we all are--” Jon quickly rotated the camera for Davos and Tyrion to wave before turning the lens back on himself. “And as you can see, we’re surrounded by the rest of Team USA who also send their love.”

 

A general cheer rose up behind him as the multiple announcers cycled through the pronouncement of Team USA in Korean, French (the official language of the International Olympic Committee), and finally English. Another laugh quickly followed as “Gangnam Style” boomed out over the loudspeakers, inciting some of the Americans to attempt the once popular dance as they followed their flag out onto the track and into the stadium.

 

The surge of excitement from the athletes and the crowd merged, everyone waving and shouting in excitement and wonder. “It’s freezing!” Jon shouted over the cacophony of noise, holding his particularly ugly suede gloves up for inspection, making sure to get the fringe in the shot so Dei could have a good laugh at his expense. “Not exactly Vera, am I right?”

 

The rest of the ceremony careened by in a blur, the speeches declaring the Olympic Games open and encouraging athletes to play fair, the raising of the Olympic and South Korean flags, the lighting of the cauldron by none other that the art of Figure Skating’s Yuna Kim- dubbed “Queen Yuna” by her fellow South Koreans, international competitors, and media. Jon’s heart squeezed in his chest knowing how much she would have given to be here in this moment, to recognize the great honor that was being bestowed upon, not only a wonderful representative of their art, but also an honor for all of them in the sport itself.

 

And just as suddenly, it was all over. Jon found himself wandering the Olympic Village alone, Davos and Tyrion having long left him to find their own beds, exhausted from the cold and the excitement of the evening. His stomach was churning, a heady mix of thrill and guilt driving him forward, and he knew he would be unable to sleep until he finally worked up the courage to do one last thing.

 

With a sigh, he pulled out his phone one more time, adjusting his camera and taking a moment to steady himself before hitting record one more time. 

 

“Hi Dei. Sorry for all of the videos, this is the last one- promise.” he paused for a moment, staring at the cauldron in the distance, taking comfort from the fact that for the next sixteen days this flame would burn and serve as a beacon to them all.

 

“Actually - this one is just for her. So, if you don’t mind not listening to the rest?” He swallowed as his voice cracked, his nerves getting the better of him for a moment before he lifted his head and looked directly into the camera lens. Still, it was a moment before words would come. “I’m not supposed to be here alone, you know? This was never the deal. You were the one that wanted this so badly - your “Trifecta”, and now, you just… you’re not here and I have to do this on my own, and-”

 

He trailed off, biting his lip. “I know it doesn’t help anything to say that we were supposed to be a team, we were supposed to do this together, but the fact of the matter is--”

 

Another deep breath. “I kind of hate this without you. More than I hated being without  _ it _ all those years. I was never serious about coming back, but you latched onto me, made your dreams mine, and now…”

 

He stared at the flaming cauldron in the background, unable to even look into the camera lens. “Now, I kind of hate you for making me go through this alone.” He looked up to the sky, his eyes filling with tears as he blinked furiously so as not to let them fall. “Except I don’t. You know I could never hate you.”

 

He took a shuddering breath, dashing a finger under his left eye, wicking away the moisture he found there before it could fall. “I just--”  _ Be brave. _ “I wish more than anything that you were here. I hate that it’s my fault that you’re not-- I hate me more than anything--” he let the phone drop.

 

“I just--  I miss you, Dany.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Sunday everyone! This chapter fought me all the way, but hopefully you will all enjoy it as much as I do. Feel those feelings, Jon!
> 
> Thanks for all the lovely comments so far everyone! It thrills me to know that there are other GoT/ice skating fanatics willing to take this leap with me. <3's to all!


	6. Dany - Nationals 2014

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany and Jon continue to grow as a team, make an appearance at their first Nationals, and bond over the results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Happy Passover/Easter/Holiday to those who celebrate!
> 
> I've been getting a lot of questions about the timeline of this fic, so I thought I'd put a little note up here to give a more clear idea. (As well as doubling down in the fic itself to try to make it more clear where and when we are).
> 
> Jon's chapters begin in 2018 and go backwards in time. Dany's begin in 2013 and move forward in time. :)
> 
> Hope you all enjoy this chapter!

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The were a team like any other -- they had good days, they had bad days, and - being them - they had extremely bad days. In the scant months since Jon Snow had agreed to be her partner (“Coerced, Storm. You mean coerced.”), they had made excellent progress. Successes were starting to stack up, and although they had yet to be recognized on a grander scale- their appearances at New England regionals and Eastern sectionals went well enough to qualify for Nationals in January, and endorsements were coming in hot and heavy (like she had predicted). 

 

Jon actually showed little to no interest in any of it, instead saving up his “charm” for the sponsors they had managed to garner - namely Lyanna Mormont and Olenna Tyrell. The former was a child prodigy in the sport of women’s hockey who had a sharp mind for business and a decided interest in keeping her money invested “on-ice”; the latter’s grandchildren were nationally ranked, and Olympic bound in their own right. As neither Jon nor Dany would face Margaery or Loras in competition, Olenna had no qualms about “Keeping things interesting for the Lannisters.”

 

Whatever the reason, Dany had little issue with accepting their sponsorship. If they had wanted her to burst into flames and skate about  _ in flagrante _ she would have found a way to do it, so generous were their financial contributions to her and Jon’s athletic ambitions. And ambitious they were.

 

New partnerships rarely solidified in so short a time. Since officially partnering in late spring, and especially with their first appearance at Nationals right around the corner in January, Tyrion put them through their paces. On ice four days a week, two days a week of weight, gym, and dance training, with one day off to rest. At first both Dany and Jon had protested the rigorous workload, but it had become readily apparent that they were both sorely out of shape and needed the constant practice. (“Speak for yourself, Snow. I am grace personified.” This joke managed to land a smirk from Jon, and Dany thanked all the gods, old and new, for the “boon”.)

 

These things took time, she knew that. If only they had more of it. They spent hours off-ice modifying holds, lengthening and shortening strides to match each other more naturally, practicing jumps and throws at the gym with the relative safety of exercise mats below them. Little in figure skating ever came gracefully or naturally, but the crux of the entire sport lay in making the impossible seem accessible and easy.

 

Dei and Tyrion were godsends in those early days-- Dei with the patience and wisdom of a thousand saints, and Tyrion with hard truths tempered with affection, his years of experience on full display with every adjustment and bit of advice he offered. Davos also steadily grew in her estimation as the weeks unfolded into months, and spring and summer faded into fall. The only person in the entire operation that remained a mystery to Dany was Jon himself -- arguably the one person that she needed to know more intimately than all the rest combined.

 

His work ethic never wavered. He was always punctual, willing to do whatever was asked of him, and no slouch when it came to the physicality of their work. It was often Dany who tired more quickly, who needed more breaks and time to rest between movements, who snapped irritably when she was tired or overworked. Jon never complained, never seemed to run out of energy, never seemed to give into any emotion whatsoever while working. His face was constantly set in hard lines of concentration, his pursed lips making them seem much more prominent that she would have otherwise noted.

 

She knew that part of the cold exterior stemmed from the fact that Jon had only ever partnered with one person-- Ygritte. He had no experience in opening himself up to the possibility of new and different ways of thinking and performing - so ingrained were his former ways of working with his former partner, they would often stumble into difficult situations without knowing exactly why. Dany tried not to take it personally whenever a lift went awry, or a step sequence was woefully out of sync. They were still learning each other after all, however the fucking contract negated any of the methods she had previously used to connect with her former partners. She longed to drag him home with her, get him well and properly drunk, and finally see what was actually going on under all of those tightly wound raven curls.

 

“Earth to Dany…” Dei sighed, waving her hands in front of Dany’s face, startling her back to reality. Right, they were in the weight room, practicing lifts - today’s task being “Perfect hand to hip Star Lift before taking it on-ice.”

 

“Sorry.” Dany muttered, glancing at Jon, who per the usual, stood silently, his full lips almost pouting. She blamed him for her distraction, really. It was his fault that she was having problems concentrating after all. Jon Snow with his stoic nature, quiet tendencies, strong arms, and handsome brooding face…. Shaking her head, she turned back to Dei, dragging her concentration with her before he distracted her further.

 

“We’ll just focus on the lift itself first. Dany, you’ll transfer your left hand from Jon’s right hand to his right shoulder for the push off.” Dei took Dany’s hand and placed it on Jon’s shoulder, and Dany couldn’t help her fingers delving into the softness of his t-shirt-- black of course. “Jon, your right hand will drop to Dany’s left hip, your left hand will take her right,” Dei sure hands guided Jon’s, always hesitant to reach out to her, as if he was afraid she would burn him, and once again Dany found herself in the circle of his arms.

 

Jon’s fingers tightened around her own, his powerful legs bracing for the lift that would require him to eventually release her left hand, and to support her only from her left hip, raising his arm directly over his own head. A thrill coursed through Dany as his right hand found her hip and Dei counted them down, “And on three-- one, two-” Jon bent his knees, and Dany braced her left hand on his shoulder, preparing to assist him as best she could, and suddenly, she was in the air, high above Dei’s head. Instinct took over then, her legs drawing into an open arabesque, her left hand leaving the safety of Jon shoulder to extend and counter balance as Jon stood to his full height, his arm fully lengthened as his elbow locked into place, the warmth of his large hand spreading across her hip as he rotated slowly.

 

“Good, hold.” Dei murmured, taking a moment to study their positions before giving adjustments. “Jon, widen your stance a bit. Dany, point your toes through the skates, your lines are falling flat if you flex your feet. Same with your hands-- the lines need to flow through you, not end abruptly.” Dany nodded as she attempted to make the adjustments, her hair falling over her shoulder and into Jon’s face, causing him to sputter.

 

“Sorry!” she called, but it was too late-- she was already falling. Instinctively, she brought her left hand back to his shoulder, her fingertips scrambling for purchase as she fought the cruel mistress of gravity to bring her legs down to the mat first so as to land on her feet.

 

Instead, she found that both his arms closed in on her like a vise, drawing her into his hard chest, slowing her unexpected descent and giving her core time to engage and control her legs to land on her feet. Her other arm circled around his neck as her chest smashed into his, and Jon stepped back to absorb the impact of her less than graceful landing.

 

Dany froze, the shock of the sudden fall blending with the odd sensation of her entire body meshed against Jon’s own - the juxtaposition of hard and soft swirling together as they both fought for breath, the adrenaline pumping in earnest now. Her eyes met his, and Dany was surprised to see not anger, not shock, not impatience as she had come to expect, but something lighter. His eyes were a warmer chocolate today, concern now coming in around the edges as they clung to each other, neither assured of the other’s safety enough to let go yet.

 

“You alright?” he rasped, the first words he had spoken today. His hands spread across her back, rubbing up and down as if searching for a possible injury, warmth spreading down her spine and pooling in her belly.

 

Dany nodded, not trusting her voice to speak without trembling for the moment, her adrenaline levels spiking higher than they should have been from a simple lift gone awry.

 

“You want to let go of my hair then?”

 

Confused, Dany drew her gaze from his and looked to her hands, her left still clawed into his soft, black t-shirt, but the right-- somehow in the scramble to right herself, she had grabbed for the first available purchase, which happened to be the curls at the base of Jon’s neck. With a gasp, she forced her fingers open, a task more difficult than she was expecting, and drew her hand away, the part of her mind still free to wonder about inconsequential things reveling in the smoothness of the curls and relishing the silky feel of them flowing through her fingers.

 

_ No. Stop that right now. _

 

Dany shook her head. “Sorry about that.”

 

“S’alright.” he studied her for a moment longer, the concerned scrutiny doing something funny to her heartbeat. “Falls happen.”

 

“Yes.”

 

In the background, a light cough as Dei cleared her throat. “Jon?”

 

“Hmm?” He finally tore his eyes from her own to focus on Dei, giving Dany a moment to scramble for what was left of her pride and dignity and compose herself.

 

“You can put her down now.” Dei smirked.

 

Both Jon and Dany looked to Dei in confusion before the sensation of full body contact returned, and suddenly Dany was falling again- this time partially her own fault as she jerked her hands away from his shoulders. Dei’s laugh followed her as gravity finally won its hard fought battle and Dany crashed to the mat.

 

“Sorry!” Jon’s gruff voice sounded as Dany looked up to Dei’s sparkling eyes and muffled laughter. She sighed, taking a quick assessment of her body to make sure nothing further than her pride had been damaged, and made to stand when Jon’s hand appeared in her line of sight. She took it automatically, allowing him to pull her upright.

 

“Thank you.” she said quietly, her hand lingering a touch too long before she let go and began to dust herself off, trying desperately to ignore the growing tingling in her fingers as she fought to keep her face composed. She turned back to Dei expectantly. His blink of surprise at her quiet words cut her more deeply than she had thought possible. Perhaps Tyrion was correct. She could stand to be a little less dragon-ish if this partnership was truly going to take flight.

 

“Well, what are you two waiting for?” Dei’s voice sliced through the growing heat of the room. “That can’t happen on the ice. Again!”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Nationals was an unmitigated disaster.

 

The short program had gone well, she and Jon skating solidly, although not spectacularly. Dei’s choreography and lively music selection (‘Sweet Caroline’ was always a sure bet when it came to appealing to crowds in Boston) had been good enough to secure third place going into the Long Program, and the entire coaching and management staff had been proud of their accomplishments. Dany had even come so far as to secretly hope that Nationals might be the turning point for them, that the struggle and dedication of the past eight months might start to pay off in spades. She and Jon still had miles to go, but… A strong showing at Nationals would award them a place on the Olympic team bound for Sochi, and she was determined to make that happen.

 

Dany didn’t know how exactly, but it felt as if they were on the verge of some sort of break through. When they had finished their short program skate, she had turned to him, unable to keep her sense of cautious joy from spilling over, reaching over to give him a brief hug before separating to take their bows. The crowd’s warm applause rolled over her like the first breath of fresh spring air after a long winter, and she took Jon’s hand in her own and slid out to the side to curtsey, only stopping when Jon’s arm didn’t move, pulling her up short. She glanced over at him questioningly, finding him frozen with a look of surprise on his face. 

 

“Jon?” she said gently, squeezing his fingers in her own. “You all right?”

 

He didn’t answer, just shook his head, his curls bouncing lightly on either side of his face before snapping out of it, and offering his bow to the crowd. Shooting the judges a dazzling smile, Dany joined him, scooping an errant teddy bear off the ice before turning to Jon and dropping his hand with one last encouraging squeeze. “I think that went well!” she murmured, waving to the crowd, a piece of hair falling forward over her face and lodging in her lipstick. She reached up to brush it aside, but before she could Jon drew the wayward curl from her lips, his finger lingering along her jawline as he tucked the hair behind her ear. Dany glanced up at him, suppressing the shudder that his gentle touch had instigated, his eyes holding a warmth that lifted Dany’s spirits. Perhaps she was chipping away at his icy shell at last.

 

The subtle “Awwwwww.” from the crowd sent a blush racing through her cheeks and down her neck and she quickly ducked her face to hide her grin, gliding to the area where Tyrion, Dei and Davos waited, hugging them all closely as they settled into the Kiss and Cry to await their scores. Once there, Jon surprised her again by not only taking her hand in his, but actually smiling (with full teeth!) at her and leaning close to murmur “Nice work,” before he turned to speak to Davos.

 

It was as if someone had clocked her upside the skull, and she now needed to squint to see straight, the world having taken on a fuzzy quality along the edges. Her mind raced trying to figure out what had happened to Jon Snow, and who this warm, personable alien was beside her, all the while her heartbeat amplifying as she struggled to catch her breath.

 

When the scores reflected a personal best in the Short Program for Snow/Storm, the crowd had cheered, and Dany couldn’t help the beaming smile that came over her. She and Dei letting out matching squeals of delight as the men tried to retain a bit of decorum, shaking each others hands vigorously. And all the while, Jon kept her hand in his left, the warmth of it grounding her in his solidness.

 

_ It’s all happening, finally. _

 

And then, the disasters struck.

 

First, wasn’t so much of a disaster, but an inconvenience. Tyrion awoke the next morning with a bout of food poisoning that would keep him groaning and close to a toilet facility for the remainder of the competition. He nevertheless powered through, facetiming into their warm-up sessions to give last minute pointers and advice.

 

Then, there was the announcement that due to a calculation mistake the night before, the scores had been reviewed and some were found to be incorrect, causing a shuffle in some of the placements. Dany and Jon retained third place, but now instead of being a mere 3 points out of the lead, they trailed the second place team (Lannister/Lannister) by a more formidable 7 points, and trailed the leaders (Castelli/Shnapir) by 10. In Davos’ professional opinion, they could not overtake the leaders, but could try to maintain a third place finish overall that would still allow them to qualify for the Olympics.

 

Their on-ice warm-up was a joke-- both she and Jon uncharacteristically falling on a side by side double toe-loop, one of the easiest jumps in competition. One of her skate laces snapped, causing her to leave the ice immediately to change skates. Jon stumbled into Jaime Lannister (or vice-versa, it was a bit unclear afterwards who had been at fault), shaking both men’s concentration. The loudspeaker in the green room stopped working, frantic PA’s running back and forth backstage to keep the group apprised of the goings on.

 

And then, there was their Free Skate. 

 

Even before they took to the ice, Dany could feel an impending sense of dread that she fought off as hard as she could. Jon’s hands felt clammy in her own, far from the solid warmth she had come to expect and rely upon. He also refused to meet her gaze, the broodish loner returning instead of the confident competitor that had taken over his body the previous day. Dany pasted a smile on her face, hoping that the judges wouldn’t sense her unease, or Jon’s complete 180 in behavior.

 

The music began, and Dany was three steps into the choreography before she froze, realizing that not only was Jon not at her side as she had expected and the program called for, but that the music was incorrect. She spun around only to crash directly into Jon, sending both of them tumbling to the ice in an ungraceful heap. As she struggled to untangle herself from him, she heard him gasp. “Shit,” cleary rang out across the ice as the music cut off abruptly, the sound tech most assuredly realizing that the wrong music was blaring from the loudspeaker system.

 

Dany’s face immediately went crimson as the crowd gasped, and turned to Jon to find him clutching his knee. His costume torn and knee bleeding, either from the impact of the ice from the fall, or from a careless brush of her skate while she attempted to right herself. “Oh no. Are you ok?” She groaned, reaching over to assess the damage only to have Jon hiss and lurch away from her touch.

 

“Get off of me.” He bit out, the pain and exasperation in his voice heaping upon the embarrassment already growing as she carefully stood, and offered her hand to him to help him up. He steadfastly ignored her, pulling himself upright and limping over to the judges to plead their case to begin again, leaving her in the middle of the rink with nothing but empty hands, excuses, and mortification.

 

He refused to meet her concerned gaze, or answer any of her questions as the judges deemed that it had been a true mistake. The sound tech apologized profusely in the background, and they returned to center ice to take their starting pose once more. However, the damage had been done.

 

They fell twice, were woefully out of sync, and to add final insult to an already bloody injury- Dany’s costume malfunctioned, and she lost the strap on one shoulder completely, nearly flashing the entire crowd and judges when it burst in their final death spiral.

 

She refused to cry, struggling to hold up her costume and retain some sort of dignity while also trying to cover for the towering pillar of rage that was her partner. She could sense the anger coming off of him in waves, the tension and frustration finally getting the better of him as he flung her hand away after the final bow and stormed from the ice, refusing to look or even speak to her in the Kiss and Cry. 

 

When their abyssmal scores were announced, he threw himself from the bench, abandoning her to do all of the media interviews by herself, with Dei standing behind her as support. Davos had offered her a silent squeeze on the shoulder before following his charge into the green room. Dany composed herself as best she could, feeling the queen-like mask she had adopted over the years fall onto her face, the sport’s need for grace under pressure overcoming every other urge until she was out of sight of the media, her other competitors, and the crowds.

 

Once she was free of the reporters, her answers becoming dangerously short and snappish at the end of the long line of them, her embarrassment at their performance only compounded by the fact that she was now having to handle the her disappointment and the media on her own, trying to avoid the question to Jon’s whereabouts and everyone’s favorite topic- their curse, as best she could. She absolutely did not want to give the gossip mill any more ammunition than they already had. Finally free, Dany stormed into her dressing room, Dei on her heels to help with the many fastenings and buttons on her costume as Dany’s hands were shaking too violently to undo them without further damaging the delicate material.

 

She groaned. “Dei, what happened?”

 

Dei didn’t say anything right away, her brow furrowed in concentration as she struggled with the clasps on the costume. “You both had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.”

 

“You can say that again.” Her mind raced as she reviewed the day, cataloging the incidents one after another, finally settling on Jon’s pained, tight face. Her heart lurched to think that she might have been the cause of that pain, but her simmering anger was simultaneously ratcheting up as well. “I just don’t see how we could have had this bad of luck.” she said.

 

Dei stopped behind her, examining the broken strap. “Perhaps it wasn’t all luck.” she murmured.

 

“What do you mean?” Dany snapped, the end of her patience rapidly approaching,

 

“Look.” Dei pulled the strap of Dany’s costume over her shoulder so that Dany could see it more clearly. “Looks like it’s been sliced, or cut. Did you check it beforehand?”

 

“Of course I checked it beforehand, Dei. This isn’t my first competition.”

 

Dei nodded. “I know, but it looks like it was only cut a little- gravity and friction did the rest-- you can see where it tore on its own after that.” she pointed to the frayed edges.

 

“What a shame…” a new voice purred, as both women spun on their heels and Cersei Lannister entered the room, her assistant Taena following her closely. “Looks like the Snowstorm fizzled out when faced with legitimate competition.”

 

Dany ground her teeth before reaching deep to find a delicate smile to plaster over her features. “Cersei. I hear congratulations are in order?” The results of Nationals were all but decided with her and Jon’s disastrous performance. Unless Jaime and Cersei had imploded more than she and Jon, they would be representing the US in Sochi in just a few weeks time.

 

“Of course.” Cersei demurred, Taena reaching to help her out of her costume as well.

 

“It’s rather unfortunate that Tyrion couldn’t be here to cheer on his siblings to their 10th National Championship placement.” Dany nodded to Dei to continue helping her out of her costume, wanting to be rid of Cersei’s presence as quickly as possible.

 

“He always did have a sensitive stomach.” Cersei answered, Taena’s lip curling in a snicker as Dany studied her former idol turned rival from behind lowered lashes. When she was young she had worshipped the ground the older blonde had skated upon, her own partnership with Viserys mirrored after every performance Cersei and Jaime had orchestrated. They had rarely faced each other in competition, but when they did, Cersei and Jaime always seemed to come out just a step ahead.

 

Dei started abruptly, another tearing sound coming from Dany’s costume. “Dei!” she admonished.

 

“I didn’t realize you knew Tyrion was ill?” was all Dei said, and Dany froze, the implications of Dei’s statement ringing in her ears. Surely Cersei wouldn’t have stooped to the levels of sabotage? Then again, none of their problems started until after they had done well in the Short Program…

 

“He called Jaime to wish him luck. I’m sure he must have mentioned it to me in passing.” Cersei answered smoothly, unruffled at Dei’s gentle probing. Even if she had done something so low, Cersei was smart. There was no way that she would have gotten her hands dirty to do anything so appalling herself, however the entire ice-skating world knew that the Lannister’s pockets ran deep. She could have arranged for anything to happen, and she and her brother would never be implicated.

 

Dany removed her skates, now sure that no matter what the truth was, she did not want to be in a small enclosed space with this woman any more than necessary. “I’m sure.” she said as she shoved her feet into her sneakers, not even bothering with the rest of the costume, motioning for Dei to hand her her gym pants and hoodie. 

 

“Congratulations on finally bagging Jon Snow, by the way.” Cersei’s cold voice froze Dany in her tracks, her fingers clutching the handle of her gym bag.

 

“I’m sorry?” she said impatiently, hefting the bag over her shoulder.

 

Cersei huffed out a laugh. “We’ve all had a bet going as to how long it would take for you to bed this partner. Didn’t take you half as long with any of your others.”

 

Dany bristled, opening her mouth to lambast Cersei into next week when Dei’s hand closed over her shoulder. “Let’s go.” she tugged her along to the dressing room door. “She’s not worth your time.”

 

“I would ask about how you feel about being his ‘sloppy seconds’, but since he’s well down on your list of conquests, I’d say you’re at least practiced enough to give him things his little red-headed whore couldn’t.”

 

The gasps registered with Dany before the stinging sensation in her hand did, Dei now physically shoving her towards the door as Cersei clutched her face, the red handprint from Dany’s slap radiating down her cheek as she snarled at her in response. Taena threw open the door and shouted for security. 

 

“How dare you?” Cersei drew herself up to her more formidable height and stepped towards Dany, only stopping when Jorah shouldered his way into the room, taking Dany by the elbow and gently pulling her out. Habit took over, and Dany fell into step with Jorah immediately, tucking herself under his arm as she pulled the hood up over her head, Dei following closely behind carrying the rest of her equipment as Cersei’s outraged screams followed them from the building.

 

“Has he seen that temper of yours yet, Targaryen? A dragon so very rarely changes its scales.”

 

The tears had started in earnest now, choking down any response that she could have made, and didn’t stop until well after Jorah and Dei had taken her home. Dei tucked her into bed and agreed to fill in Tyrion and Davos in case Cersei decided to make an official complaint, and Jorah promised to stay the night, setting up a chair in her building’s hallway outside her front door. The guilt of it all crashed over her-- how could she have let her temper get the better of her in such a way? It was bad enough that she and Jon had performed so abysmally, but it was another matter entirely to physically attack a rival. She would be lucky if she wasn’t banned from the US Figure Skating Federation for this, thus effectively ending her dreams of being an Olympian all together. Jon would never forgive her.

 

_ Jon… _

 

She had no idea how to even broach the subject with him, or how he would react. She was fighting so ardently to rise above, to not let her past traumas control her future, to pour all of herself into this new partnership, to be better and different, and to finally, finally live up to her family’s legacy and claim everything that could be hers. She couldn’t do it without him, and yet his behavior today had effectively abandoned her. So much for being a team. Her confusion and conflicting feelings were tangling her up inside, making it impossible to get a read on how she actually felt. How Cersei had found that obviously gaping wound and had flayed her with her pointed words was beyond her.

 

The tears had subsided by now, her shuddering breaths evening out as Drogon nosed his way under the covers with her, his wet nose nuzzling along her cheeks, and his rough tongue burning a hole as he lapped at the salty tracks. “You’ll never abandon me, right?” she brought her hand to scratch behind his ears, relishing in the sound of his purring. She had no idea how long they stayed burrowed under the covers, hiding from the world. She lost track of how many times her phone buzzed, sure that it was Tyrion calling from his sickbed to admonish her for a great number of things and just not wanting to hear it at the moment.

 

It wasn’t until much later she heard a commotion outside of her front door, her heart leaping into her throat, sure that Cersei had decided to take matter into her own hands and had somehow found out where she lived. She grabbed her phone and crept towards the door, wondering if she needed to call 911, and thankful that Jorah had insisted on staying even though a few hours ago she had thought it overkill. Cautiously, she crept up to the peephole, peering through the door and letting out a sigh of relief when she say Jorah on the other side, not confronting one of the Lannister goons, but talking animatedly with none other than Jon Snow.

 

“Look, she’s not answering her phone. Are you sure she’s ok?” Jon’s deep tenor was muffled through the door.

 

“Dei tucked her into bed herself, she’s probably just sleeping. It’s been a long day.” Jorah replied, his hand still on Jon’s chest, stopping him from knocking on the door. “I’m here more for peace of mind.”

 

Dany’s mind was a flurry of sudden activity and feeling. Why was Jon here? He had obviously heard what happened. She glanced down at the phone in her hand, and sure enough the buzzing from earlier had been 4 missed calls from Jon, the first incoming call recorded from his number. A queer trickle of warmth filled her core, followed quickly by an icy feeling of dread as her thoughts continued to churn. How had he found her? Why was he even bothering to come check on her after his immature behavior earlier in the day? Did she really want to speak to him after the way he had treated her? Did she really want to explain why she had slapped Cersei-- she wasn’t even quite sure she understood that herself.

 

“Jorah, I like you, but if you do not get out of my way…” Jon’s tone had taken on a deceptively soft quality, making it even more difficult to hear than it had before.

 

Dany winced, not wanting any more violence on her behalf today and threw open the door, belatedly wishing that she had at least scrubbed her tear-streaked face before doing so. Jon and Jorah both froze, Jorah’s hand on Jon’s chest now fisting into his t-shirt, Jon still reaching as if to knock on the door.

 

“Hi.” They both chroused, quickly dropping their arms, and reaching to straighten out Jon’s rumpled shirt.

 

“What are you doing here?” Dany bit out, arms folded as she leaned against the door frame.

 

Jon ducked his head, his curls falling over his eyes. “Tyrion told me about the… conflict with you and Cersei.”

 

“Ah.” Dany tapped her foot, mentally screaming at him to lift his gaze, to look her in the goddamn eyes just once, to stop hiding his thoughts from her, and to face her like the man she thought he was.

 

The silence stretched out, Jorah looking from her to Jon, trying to decide the best course of action when Jon’s shoulder slumped. “And, to apologize for being an asshole earlier today.”

 

Dany humphed in reply, the sight of him crystallizing her anger and making everything suddenly clear. She couldn’t take much more of his changeable nature and the cycle of whiplash she was constantly caught up in. She was never sure  _ which _ Jon Snow would appear every day with her-- whether it would be the quiet, but solid Jon who patiently worked with her, who never seemed to get ruffled by anything, or if she was going to be faced with a broody, immature nightmare who abandoned her the second things got tough. “Understatement.”  

 

“I know.” he sighed, rubbing his hands briskly over his face, a habit she had noticed he used to create more time as he searched for the right words to say. “I’m sorry.”

 

“For what, Jon?” her eyes bore into his, trying to make him flinch away from her, wanting in this moment to drive home the fact that his behavior today was not ok, and something that she refused to put up with ever again. She had had her share of abusive partnerships, and she would be damned if she let history repeat itself again.

 

Jon looked helplessly from her to Jorah, who offered no help, and swallowed. “Umm could we do this in private maybe?” Dany threw open her front door, motioning for him to come in, and mentally cursing him when he balked. “Maybe not that private.” His cheeks colored wildly, his sable gaze unable to meet hers anymore as he studied the tops of his shoes intently.

 

Dany looked to Jorah, who simply shrugged, unwilling as always to offer her advice when it came to situations such as these, instead trusting her to make her best way in the world, no matter how she chose to go about it. “Ugh. Fine. Give me five minutes.” She said before closing the door firmly in both of their faces, now ever more annoyed that she had to exchange her pajamas for proper clothes all because Jon fucking Snow couldn’t be alone in a room with her.

 

She quickly pulled on some jeans, and the same hoodie as before, taking a moment to finger comb her tangled hair into a pontytail and scrubbing her face to remove the tear-tracks. Grabbing her keys and her wallet, she opened the front door once more to find both men still standing staring intently at each other, and Dany wondered what on earth she had missed.

 

“I take it we’ll be driving separately?” she asked, Jon’s relief obvious as he nodded. She turned to Jorah, “I’ll be back in an hour.”

 

“Daenerys…” his hand gently found its way to her forearm, and she drew herself to her full height, placing her other hand gently upon his own.

 

“We’ll be fine, old friend.” she patted his hand briefly before pulling her arm away, and opening the door wider for him to enter. “The cats need entertaining anyway.” she handed him a nearby cat toy and closed the door behind her before he could protest.

 

Jon stood in the same position in the hall, watching the exchange unfold before him. Dany raised an eyebrow at him. “Well? Let’s go. I don’t have all night.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

They didn’t have to go far. The nearest establishment that would afford them some modicum of privacy while still meeting Jon’s exacting criteria of “not that private” was a bar just down the street. It had no name, no sign that any visitor could make out, but the beer was cold, and the bar was always full of neighborhood locals. Dany shoved the door open, the biting winter wind chasing them indoors and causing the current occupants of the bar to protest vehemently.  

 

Shouts of “Close the damn door!” sounded as she led Jon inside and made her way to the bar, already searching for the bartender. After this shitshow of a day, she needed wine, and lots of it.

 

The bartender for the evening also happened to be the owner, a man who’s forehead held so many creases Dany had often secretly wondered he and Jorah were somehow related. “Hi Bronn.” she said, pulling up a stool at the corner of the bar, motioning for Jon to take the stool catty-corner to her so they could face each other and talk.

 

“Dany.” Bronn nodded, taking in her subdued appearance and the silent man who had followed her through the door. “Tough break today.” 

 

Dany groaned, “Please tell me you didn’t put it on in the bar?”

 

Bronn laughed. “One of our locals is on TV in any way shape or form, it’s goin’ on the tube.” he nodded to his barback, a simple young man from one of the neighborhood families trying to earn money for school. “Isn’t that right, Pod?”

 

Pod nodded earnestly, his smile breaking through the cloud of doom that hung over them. “Your Short Program was really nice!” he said, wiping down the bar in front of them, and placing full water glasses on coasters for them both. “Today was…” he trailed off, his sincerity neither allowing him to lie, nor continue as there was nothing positive to say about today’s performance.

 

“Today means that your first round is on us.” Bronn clapped Pod on the back, startling the boy and their full waters sloshed over the bar. “Don’t get used to it.”

 

Dany rolled her eyes. “Thanks, Bronn. Malbec please.”

 

Bronn already had he bottle in his hands and was pouring her a glass. “And you, Snow?” Jon sputtered, not completely unused to strangers knowing his business, Dany was sure, but it was always disconcerting.

 

“Whatever local ale you have on tap.” Bronn nodded and returned a few moments later with a golden ale. 

 

He raised a shot of whiskey for himself. “Here’s to always doing better.” he said, tapping both of their untouched glasses and draining his shot before turning away from them and heading down to the other end of the bar.

 

Dany studied her wine, running a finger around the rim of it, as Jon took a fortifying sip of his ale and turned to her expectantly. “This ‘private yet not’ enough for you?” she asked, still not exactly sure what they were doing here.

 

Jon nodded, and took a deep breath. “Tyrion told me where you lived, by the way. Don’t want you to think I’m a creeper on top of everything else.”

 

Dany nodded, not looking at him, trying to decide how she wanted this conversation to go. He had come to apologize, that much was clear, and he seemed concerned about her well-being after hearing second hand from Tyrion what had gone down after his abrupt exit. She still didn’t understand why everything needed to be worked out tonight, but he had obviously felt strongly enough about it that he had sought her out. “I don’t think you’re a creeper.” she said softly. “But, I do think that we don’t know each other. After today, I don’t know if I can trust you, Jon. Your behavior today did more harm than good in that department.”

 

He didn’t reply, so she kept going, her words gathering momentum and weight like a speeding freight train. “Yesterday held so much promise, you know? And then today-- it was like you were a completely different person, like we had taken so many steps back and were all the way back at the beginning… I can’t do that, Jon. I can’t go back to walking on eggshells with you, constantly trying not to overstep, to not remind you too much of... Ygritte. I’m doing my best to move  _ our  _ partnership forward. I don’t want you to forget her, or move on more quickly than you need to, but I need to know that you want to be here with  _ me _ too.”

 

She took another sip of her wine, fortifying herself for what she had to say next. “I have to be able to trust you, Jon. How can I when the ghosts of your past are hanging over everything you do?”

 

Jon didn’t say anything to that, draining the rest of his ale in one gulp and motioning for Bronn to bring another. The silence stretched into eternity as Bronn deposited another beer in front of him. “Have I ever told you why Cersei and I don’t get along?”

 

Dany shook her head, swirling her wine in her glass to give her hands something to do, studying him. His eyes were so dark now they were almost black, the tension apparent in his hands as he pulled the new glass of ale to his lips and took another large gulp, in the way he refused to meet her gaze for more than a few seconds at a time.

 

“Ygritte and I qualified for the World Championships once.” he finally said, his voice low with a hint of a tremble. “We never got to go.”

 

Dany’s eyebrows shot up in surprise- what this had to do with Cersei Lannister was beyond her. “We had won our first Nationals - won outright- automatic qualification for the World Championship. We were both so excited. Jaime and Cersei offered to take us out to drinks to celebrate. Sort of a ‘passing of the torch’ or some other nonsense. There was a large group of tourists at the bar - Cersei wanted to throw her money around, so she kept buying rounds for everyone. It was strange-- the only reason Ygritte and I could think of why was because she knew that we were struggling for sponsorships and endorsements. Living in the same area, and being the second best Pair’s Skating team in the region meant that she and Jaime had taken everything that was available. She just wanted to flaunt their wealth, and was doing so in the most ostentatious manner possible.”

 

Jon’s fingers drummed on the wooden bar, his eyes far away as he lost himself in the memory of that night. “The crazy thing? We actually had a good time. Jaime is always personable, and Cersei has her moments, especially when she’s been drinking. They gave us lots of valuable advice, and kept pouring drinks for us. Ygritte was driving, so she stopped after one, but I kept on- hanging on every word that left either of their mouths.” 

 

A pause.

 

“I was so naive... Jaime ducked out after a few rounds, but Cersei… Cersei stayed, closed down the bar with us. I was plastered-- so drunk it took Ygritte, Cersei, and the bartender to get me out to the car and strapped into my seat. I don’t remember much about that night at all.” He took a shuddering breath, seeming to brace himself for what was about to come out of his mouth next. “I have no idea what the last words I ever said to Ygritte were. I have no idea if I congratulated her on our win, I have no idea if I made a fool of myself at the bar, I just…. Don’t know. All I know is that I woke up from that night of drinking in the hospital. I was in serious, but stable condition, and my partner was dead.”

 

Dany blinked, unsure of what to do. She longed to be able to comfort him, to take some of the burden from his shoulders, but instinctively knew that he would not appreciate that. Ygritte was his to carry, possibly forever. She could only wait in silence and hope that if he needed someone to lean on, he would ask.

 

“In an odd twist of fate, it was one of the other patrons of the bar that hit us head on. He was going to leave after one drink, but a nice lady kept buying rounds for the bar.” Jon let out a bitter laugh. “Who was he to turn away freebies?”

 

Dany pushed her wine away now, not sure if her churning stomach would be able to handle any alcohol at the moment. She was startled when Jon’s calloused fingers clamped down on her own, her surprised gaze now jumping to Jon’s, a fierce pride shining in his eyes. “So, I don’t care what you said or did to Cersei fucking Lannister. You’ve done something I couldn’t have done in a million years. And I’m glad you did.”

 

Dany fought to keep the sudden smile from overtaking her entire face. Jon took a deep breath, his fingers tightening on hers for just a moment before he let her go. “So, this was a really long, roundabout way of saying I’m sorry for not being there for you today. I just…” he trailed off, lost in some particularly painful memory.

 

“How is your knee?” Dany interjected, casting about frantically for anything to say to remove the delicate hurt that had woven its way across Jon’s features.

 

He huffed out a breath. “It’s just a scratch- wasn’t your fault.”

 

Dany nodded, still unsure of how to proceed, Jon’s face quiet and serious. He self-consciously rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease some of the strain as he searched for the right words. “This was my first Nationals since Ygritte died. The night we won was the last night I saw her alive.” He paused, allowing the words to sink in as he searched her face, silently imploring her to stick with him, to not let him drown in the waves grief he was fighting. She gripped his hand in her own, pouring as much empathy into their shared gaze as she could. She may not know the pain of losing a partner to death, but she knew the aching hole their absence created, and the new sense of self one was required to find in order to move on.

 

“I’m so sorry, Jon.” she murmured. “I wish you would have told me.”

 

He nodded, his grip on her hand strengthening, gathering his thoughts about him before continuing on. “You say that you don’t know if you can trust me. I get that. I’ve not done much to prove to you that I  _ can  _ be the partner you want and need… But, trust goes both ways, Dany. I only know what you show me-- which isn’t much, by the way. We have to do better - let each other in if we want this to work.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

They closed down the bar. 

 

Bronn kept an eye on them, confiscating both of their keys and offering Pod as a chauffeur to get them safely home whenever they closed their tab. The slowly opened the doors to themselves, delicately traipsing through childhood memories, figure skating idols, the mutual understanding of losing both parents at a young age, and depending on ill-equipped family members to help mold them into the people they were today.

 

She told him about Viserys. He would always be her brother, and abusive psychopath that he was notwithstanding, she had never questioned where their relationship stood both on and off-ice. Growing up a Targaryen meant business-- they had a legacy to uphold after all. “We come from a long line of legends, Daenerys. We will not forget it.” Viserys had once told her when she was barely old enough to walk to school by herself, much less skate. He held a picture of their parents from the 1984 Sarejevo Olympics in his hands, Dany awed by the pride in their eyes as they stood on the medal podium. “I won’t let you forget it.” his voice had taken on a sharp tone that sent a shiver down Dany’s spine, his index finger tracing her collarbone. 

 

She downed the rest of her wine in one gulp. The less she thought about that memory the better.

 

“He tried his hardest, I know that,” she said quietly. Viserys had tried to love her in the only way he knew how. “Sometimes though, even with family-- love just isn’t enough.”

 

She had watched as her brother became more and more disheartened, laboring under the weight of a legacy he was ill-suited for. Dany never let on that he was holding her back, that she longed for something more “One day… he snapped. There’s no other word for it. One moment we were skating calmly, and the next he stumbled, flying into a rage that was as terrifying as it was sudden.”

 

She still didn’t remember all of the details - just the feel of the ice on her cheek, the sharp contrast of something wet and warm pouring down the side of her face. Her next clear memory was Jorah holding her in his arms, screaming for a doctor in a bustling emergency room, her face sticking to his shirt as she tried to raise her head.

 

“I later found out that Jorah most likely saved my life. Viserys found that ice skates were a much more formidable weapon than most would have assumed. He never liked getting his hands dirty after all.” Jon didn’t say a word, but his troubled gaze searched hers, his hand once more seeking hers out, offering and drawing strength in equal measure.

 

“I met Drogo during the trial. I was so desperate to get back on ice, that I kind of charged forward - damn the consequences. I just knew that if I wanted to make it to the Olympics one day, that’d I’d have to do whatever I could to move on.” she sighed. “Looks like 2014 is out now too.”

 

The stool made an obscene sound as Jon moved closer to her, his entire arm now running down the length of her own. “Well, I guess that means 2018 will have to be our year.” He offered her a toast. “To the next time, Dany Storm.”

 

She smiled openly at him, her heart skipping a beat when he smiled back, the ease of it making him look years younger. She leaned in to clink her glass to his. “Next time, Jon Snow.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you're wondering about the moves mentioned --
> 
> Star Lift - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8B9NihT25es
> 
> Death Spiral - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xBpCZZxbIJQ
> 
> Side by Side Double Toe-Loops - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2fpfWNW463k (imagine 2 people doing these side by side in complete sync)
> 
> As always, thank you for taking the time out of your busy lives to read! <3


	7. Jon - Nationals 2018

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon visits family, and gets more than he bargained for. He also attempts to qualify for the 2018 Olympic Games.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, a HUGE thank you to ssun33333 for catching a slight omission in the last chapter. My computer sometimes highlights and deletes things without my knowledge, and the explanation for Jon's flip-flop nonsense was accidentally left out. If you have time, I recommend that everyone pop back to Chap 6 to read the altered conversation between Jon and Dany at the bar. (If you read it after Wednesday evening, the chapter you read is current.)
> 
> Secondly, Robb and Rickon do not exist in this world- there’s only so much sadness we can all take.
> 
> Thirdly, I can’t count, and so we’ll have 11 chapters and an epilogue. Heh.
> 
> Finally, I'll be waiting at the end with warm hugs, tissues, and chocolate for anyone who needs it. <3

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

He fucking hated Nationals. The joy that came from his three wins had been so short lived, and the rest of his appearances had run the gamut from middling to disastrous, putting an irreversibly bad taste in his mouth. To top it off, this year’s competition was in San Jose, California. He never relished visiting the Left Coast, something about the way Californians worshipped the sun striking him as just plain  _ wrong _ .

 

And yet, here he was, a mere two weeks before the competition that would either fulfill or deny their dreams of being Olympians. All he had to do was survive the Christmas holidays (always difficult attempting to avoid the sorrowful, pitying glances from family and friends alike) and then he, Tyrion, and Dei would be off, attempting something that many had deemed impossible.

 

Former Pairs skaters didn’t just wake up one day and decide to enter Singles competitions. Jon was fairly certain that Tyrion had been laughed out of the room the first time they had entered Regionals. The media, of course, had a field day with it, running constant stories about “the curse” and “comebacks” and “can Snow truly succeed without Storm?” He steadfastly avoided any and all offers of interviews, knowing that the vultures were circling, waiting to strip what was left of his resolve to the bone.

 

He refused to give them the satisfaction, instead doubling down on his training and throwing himself into his work. Tyrion was just as determined to help him succeed, although his reasonings as to why his success was so important differed wildly from Jon’s own. Together, their hard work had paid off- Jon having performed respectfully and surprising everyone, including himself, if he was being completely honest. They had sailed through Regionals and Sectionals with little trouble, and now, Nationals were looming again.

 

He still couldn’t believe that he had let Tyrion talk him into it. After the accident, he had promised himself that he would hang up his skates for good. And then Tyrion came along with his cunning, and his honeyed words, and maybe a little bit of blackmail, and Jon had capitulated. In truth, he had only agreed because he didn’t see how it could possibly work. Apparently he had underestimated himself. 

 

If he was being completely honest, Jon would be the first to admit that he had only agreed to give himself something to do to avoid the guilt that waited him at every corner. In the days immediately following the accident, he had been despondent, a mere shadow of himself, constantly waiting for her to open her beautiful, perplexingly hued eyes, and to assure him that there had been some mistake, it was all for a laugh. Tyrion had offered him an out, and Jon had grasped it with both hands, using the new challenge to propel him out of his cage of grief, and give him something to focus on other than her.

 

And yet, he was continually having problems. Even though he and Tyrion had worked themselves to the bone to reach the competitive level of the other Men’s skaters in terms of skill, he still fell short. The more candid judges that Tyrion had been able to sweet talk (or bribe) into giving more candid feedback had all said the same things. “His athleticism is not the problem. It’s the lack of connection. We see this often with Pairs skaters. They’re so used to having a partner, that they forget to draw their connections up and out to the audience and judges. If he can’t fix that, he’ll never make it.”

 

And so, here he was. Listening to Adele on repeat, and working himself stupid, trying to find a way to unlock the more guarded portions of his heart, pouring himself and everything he had been feeling since the accident into this new program. Neither Tyrion nor Dei had seen it yet, both under the impression that the Short Program that had gotten him through Regionals and Sectionals would suffice, but Jon knew better. If only he could gather the courage to show it to them.

 

Jon took a deep breath and resumed his laps around the ice rink. It was still odd to think that, even to this day, something that Tyrion had often prescribed as a punishment was the thing that calmed his nerves the most.  Something about the rhythm of it called to him. He often found that when he was having a bad day, or caught up in his own head that he took to the ice to circle mindlessly until it cleared. It was astonishing how well it worked.

 

It was astonishing how near she felt in those moments.

 

Today, he needed a clear mind more than most. After his work for the day was done, he would return home, finish packing, load Ghost up into the car and head to Boston for the holiday. All of the cousins would be gathering this year, and it had been a few months since he had seen them all. He knew they would be full of questions, Arya especially, but he hoped to at least gain a few days of relaxation before descending once more into the bowels of competitive life.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“You’re here!” Sansa’s high pitched squeal reached him just seconds before she threw her arms around him, much more vigorous in her greeting than he had come to expect from her normally reserved, decorous self.

 

Jon chuckled, returning the embrace while trying to keep Ghost from jumping out of the driver’s side door, eager to be out of the moving vehicle and anxious to see Arya’s puppy Nymeria. Where that girl came up with names for things he would never know. Nymeria was just the latest in a long line of exotically odd pet names, Visenya and Rhaenys had preceded her, and now that Jon thought about it, he wondered how Arya hadn’t “borrowed” Dany’s full name by now. They all seemed similar somehow. 

 

“Hi, Sansa.” he said, scooping her up off the ground and hugging her closely. Her arms threaded around her neck, pulling him close, and Jon had to fight off the uncomfortable sensation of itching around his eyes. It was good to be home.

 

“There’s eggnog inside.” Sansa said, stepping back and snapping for Ghost to heel. She motioned to the overnight bag in his hands. “Is this all you brought?”

 

“Aye.” he said, ignoring Sansa as she wrinkled her nose at him. He winked at her playfully. “Eggnog, huh? I think you might have been hitting it already.”

 

Sansa’s face colored prettily as she leaned down to greet Ghost. “Maybe….” 

 

Jon chuckled once more, drawing her in for one more squeeze. Your secret’s safe with me.” It was good to be home.

 

The next few hours were a whirlwind of activity. Arya and Bran had both arrived before him, and Arya wanted to make sure that Ghost and Nymeria were introduced properly. Bran immediately cornered him to talk about his studies at school (he had just completed his first semester at Harvard Divinity), while a multitude of other family members and friends filtered through the house. Sansa always threw the most lavish Christmas Eve parties, and this was to be no exception.

 

Making his excuses and finally escaping from Bran’s well meaning lecture on the proper pagan rituals that happened to coincide with the holiday season upon them, Jon grabbed his bag and made his way up the stairs, knowing that Sansa would have prepared the guest room for him. He had just opened the door when he felt a pair of arms close around his middle, the height immediately giving Arya away.

 

“Didn’t get a chance to properly say hello yet.” She said, her arms tightening like a lead band around him. Jon dropped his bag, and placed his hand over his cousin’s smaller ones, marveling at how most of the women in his life seemed to have the tiniest possible hands. He turned in her embrace, pulling her close.

 

“Hi, Needle.” he said, ruffling a hand through her hair and chuckling at the groan that escaped her.

 

“I thought we were past this.” she complained, pulling away and opening the door behind him, tossing her now especially tangled brown hair over one shoulder as she grabbed his bag from the floor and tossed it on the bed. She followed it, promptly destroying the delicate hotel corners Sansa had no doubt spent the entire morning perfecting. “No one calls me ‘Needle’ anymore.”

 

“Just me.” he said lightly, flopping down on the bed next to her.

 

“Just you.” she agreed, studying him with a coldly calculating look that he remembered with some unease from childhood. “You’ve lost weight.” The “again” hung in the air unsaid as Jon shrugged.

 

“Training.” he said simply, knowing that it was an answer that Arya wouldn’t like, but would accept nonetheless. Predictably, she studied him a moment more, her shrewd gaze taking his face in, no doubt calculating the exact number of crinkles coming from the corner of his eyes and comparing to the last time she had taken stock of his face.

 

She surprised him though when one of her fingers reached out and smoothed the skin beneath his eyebrows, instantly relaxing the skin he hadn’t realized was holding so much tension until this exact moment. “You’re also not sleeping.” More of a statement than a question.

 

Jon shrugged, not wanting to lie to his favorite cousin, but also not wanting to traipse too far down this road with her. No telling where it would lead. 

 

“Have you been to see her lately?” Arya asked her hazel eyes spearing his own with her pointed question.

 

Jon winced. Hadn’t even been here for two hours and already Arya was pouncing on him, driving mercilessly for answers he didn’t want to provide. Needle, indeed. He knew it was useless to avoid the topic, she could be as relentless as a dog going after a bone when she wanted to, her warm nature sliding dangerously cold in the blink of an eye. “It’s been a few weeks.” he admitted quietly. “Training takes up a lot of time, you know.”

 

“Ah.” Arya didn’t even bat an eye, her displeasure making itself known with the slight downturn of her lips. “That’s a shitty thing to do to someone you love.”

 

Jon blinked, her words bringing him up short, his chest clenching against the insinuation. “I’m not in love with Daenerys Targaryen.” he sputtered, his thoughts now a whirling mass of confusion. 

 

“I didn’t say ‘in love’, Jon. I said ‘love’. There is a difference, you know?” she sighed. “And what would it matter if you did?”

 

“Arya,” he warned, sitting up and grabbing his bag, placing it on a nearby chair, anything to give his suddenly itching palms something to do.

 

Arya sat up and folded her arms across her chest. “I’m serious, Jon. What’s the harm?”

 

He spun on her, reaching the end of his patience for this line of questioning, favorite cousin or not. “What’s the harm? What’s the  _ harm _ , Arya?” he rubbed his forehead to ease the sudden headache, the tight feeling in his chest intensifying. “How about the fact that she may never wake up. How about that?”

 

“Is that what the doctors are saying now?” Arya leaned forward, anxious for news. She had met Dany a number of times, having come to some of their local competitions. Jon knew that they had gotten along well enough, but the vested interest Arya was now showing indicated a stronger connection that he would have thought. “Did you find out something new?”

 

Jon huffed out a breath. “No, there’s been no change.”

 

“Then you don’t know.” Arya snapped. “There’s always hope, Jon.”

 

He slumped, suddenly exhausted from the drive, unwilling to engage with her about the dull knife blade of  _ hope _ . Hope could slide across all of your defences, allay all your fears, and then at the last moment, cut you to the quick, the uneven, ragged scrape of it torturous.

 

Arya seemed to sense that she had pushed him as far as he was willing to go today, and reached over to give him one last tight hug. “All I’m saying,” she said as she buried her head into his shoulder, her words muffled. “If it was me, I wouldn’t want to spend the holiday alone.”

 

She was gone before she could witness the thunderclap of shock that ran across his face. Alone? She wasn’t alone. She had… His thoughts jounced from one person to another, trying to think if Jorah or Dei had mentioned recently who had drawn the holiday shift.

 

As Dany was estranged from what was left of her family, they had all taken turns visiting, making sure that someone visited every day, even if only for a short while. The doctors had said repeatedly that interaction and talking to her could only help speed the healing process. They had complete confidence that Dany was still in there somewhere, with her sharp wit, her blazing temper, her drive and determination. Jon wasn’t so sure. 

 

Suddenly frantic, Jon grabbed his phone, scrolling through until he found Dei’s number. It only rang a few times before she picked up, her smooth alto voice instantly easing some of the fear. “Hi Jon! Thought you were home for the holiday?”

 

He cleared his throat, not wanting the edge in his voice to give away the sudden panic. “Hi Dei. I am, I just…” he trailed off, unsure of the best way to say this, finally deciding that direct was best. “I just couldn’t remember the schedule and wanted to make sure that someone was with Dany this week.”

 

“Oh.” Dei’s voice softened. “Jorah’s with her. He seemed like the most logical choice, given how long they’ve known each other.”

 

Jon nodded. “Right.” He said, a wave of unexplained discomfort washing over him as he stared down at his thumb, picking at a bit of dried skin fiercely, wincing as it gave way under his harsh touch, a small bubble of blood appearing. “Well, thanks Dei. I just wanted to make sure… I’m not sure I’ve seen a schedule lately.”

 

“Tyrion asked that we take you off the rotation for awhile, what with the holidays and Nationals.” Her matter of fact tone of voice set him on edge. Did they not think that he could handle the pressure of it all?

 

“You all don’t need to worry about me.” he said gruffly, sticking his thumb in his mouth to stem the bleeding.

 

Dei’s laugh sounded merrily. “Jon, you know that is quite literally most of our jobs, right?” There was a beat before she continued. “What’s all this about? Where is this coming from?”

 

“Arya asked and I realized I didn’t know who was with her.” Jon closed his eyes, the headache now pulsing behind his right eye.

 

He could sense Dei’s diplomacy wavering slightly, “You know we would never leave her alone.” she said. “Also, I can safely say that if the roles were reversed, Dany wouldn’t leave you alone either.”

 

Jon closed his eyes, the tightness in his chest easing somewhat at the thought. “I know.” He chewed on his bottom lip, debating fiercely with himself before taking a leap. “Dei… I have something I need to show you before Nationals.”

 

“Are you hurt?” the strain in Dei’s voice apparent even over the phone.

 

“No, no, nothing like that.” He withdrew his thumb from his mouth, the blood having stopped. “I just want to make a change or two to the Short Program before we go.”

 

“A change or two?” the suspicion obvious.

 

“You’ll see.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The rest of the holiday went by in a blur. Sansa had outdone herself once again, her home transformed into a warm, cozy winter wonderland, full of holiday cheer and laughter. It was good to be here, to surround himself with those whom he loved, and who loved him, trying to make up for the time lost when he had pulled away from them all, his grief developing a chasm that had been unbridgeable for so long. There were times when he still felt as if he was viewing the rest of the world from a distance, unable to cross over and join the rest of humanity in their vibrancy. For so long his life had lost its color, and only recently had he been able to see the full rainbow of possibility that lay before him, only to then be jaggedly ripped away as Dany had been ripped away from him.

 

All too soon it was time to load up Ghost into the car, wrap his cousins in a strong an embrace as he could muster, and leave with their best wishes for his success.

 

Arya gave him a quick hug, raising an eyebrow, her eyes piercing his own. “Be brave, Jon. It’s time.” She drove her knuckles into the meat of his shoulder to drive her point home, before turning without a backward glance and heading back into the house.

 

As he drove home, Jon couldn’t help but contemplate her words, and the feeling of rightness that they brought about. It was time.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“So, when you said ‘A change or two,’ what you really meant was ‘Let’s do an entirely new program.” Dei crossed her arms over her chest, tapping her skate on the ice insolently.

 

Jon shrugged, lifting his hands helplessly. “You said to put more of myself on the ice. This was the easiest way I could think to do it.”

 

Dei studied him thoughtfully, her eyes narrowing. “She loves this song.”

 

“Yes.” There was little use in denying it. “I’ve always wondered why though.”

 

“Have you?” Dei’s eyebrows shot skyward. “I always thought it was rather obvious, myself.” A pause as her eyes searched his. “Is that going to be a problem for you?”

 

Jon shoved his hands into his pockets. “I can’t do this without her, Dei. This is her dream, and I need her to guide me there as best she can, in whatever way she can.”

 

Dei’s eyes softened, her arms dropping as she reached out to lay a comforting hand on her arm. “Let’s make this program worthy of you both, then.” She patted him one last time. “Your instincts are strong, but we’ll need to make a few changes, especially in the step sequence so that you can gain the maximum point val--”

 

He cut her off, throwing his arms around her in a bone crushing hug. “Thank you, Dei.” he whispered, not trusting himself to say more, but needing her to know how incredibly grateful he was in this moment. 

 

Dei hugged him firmly before stepping back. “It’s time to get to work, Jon Snow.”  

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

_ “Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the 2018 US National Figure Skating Championship. I’m your host Scott Hamilton, and today I’m joined by none other than our beloved thorny duo, Margaery and Loras Tyrell. Many of you will remember the breathtaking performances of our two guest commentators in the Sochi 2014 games, Margaery took Gold in the Ladies competition, and Loras secured the bronze in the Men’s competition of the same games.” _

 

_ Margaery laughed, “Oh Scott, you are a dear! And, please let me be the first to tell you how inspiring it is to be here with you today. I’m only sad that there’s not an opportunity to see you skate!” _

 

_ “Indeed!” Loras chimed in. “I grew up watching your skates from your Gold medal games - 1984 in Sarajevo - truly a set of breathtaking performances.” _

 

_ “Awwww, you guys!” Scott’s bright smile lit the airwaves. “You know I love a good walk down memory lane, however, let’s direct our gazes to the future instead of the past. Today, we focus on the Men’s Short Program. Our viewers from this week will remember that this competition also serves as Qualifiers for the 2018 PyeongChang Olympic games, opening next month in South Korea, so there is quite a bit of pressure on this performance as it will either set these skaters up for success or failure on a deeper level than normal.” _

 

_ “So true, Scott.” Margaery’s normally beautiful face was somber. “We’ve already seen a number of thrills and disappointments this week. Our Ice Dancing and Ladies teams already chosen earlier in the competition, and just this morning our new Pairs’ champions have been crowned, Lannister/Lannister giving a truly beautiful performance, unlike anything we have seen from them in recent years.” _

 

_ Loras nodded. “In an ironic twist of fate, a former Pairs’ Skating World Champion has now entered the Men’s competition.” _

 

_ “Jon Snow.” Scott motioned out to the ice behind them. “It’s very rare for skaters to change disciplines. For those that are following along at home, it would be as if you have been right handed all your life, and then one day, you suddenly decide to use only your left hand for everything that you do. Sounds impossible, no? Well, this young man has not only made that decision, but has actually managed to gain moderate success. I’ll be interested to see what he can do this afternoon, and for the Free Skate.” _

 

_ “And if the curse will strike again.” Loras frowned. “It may well just - the Men’s competition this year is extremely fierce. Nathan Chen, widely renowned as the US’ best chance for Gold at the 2018 games, is in the best form of his young life, and I think that tonight we will see history made.” _

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Jon sat quietly backstage, earbuds firmly in his ears. It was go time. He had done everything he could to prepare for this moment, and now it was here. He clasped his hands together, knowing that they were still trembling - this happened before most programs. If Dany had been here beside him, she would have reached over and gently pried his fingers apart, working her own between his and squeezing gently. She wouldn’t have said much, just a murmured word or two of encouragement, but she would have respected his need for silence and focus, offering what confort she could through her gentle but firm touch.

 

The lavender smell of her shampoo would have helped to calm his nerves, his chest relaxing slightly as his breathing evened. Jon closed his eyes, losing himself for a moment in the memory of her. The feel of her hand in his, the weight of her head on his shoulder, the synchronization of their breathing, but most of all he remembered the way her eyes would blaze with the fire of competition. When it was time to take the ice, she was always the first up and ready to go, reaching down to pull him to her side, the fire in her eyes enough to make him feel slightly scorched.

 

“Are you alright?” Instead of Dany’s gentle touch and soft words, a bony finger poked into his shoulder, dissipating the daydream as quickly as it had come over him.

 

His eyes shot open, taking in the scrawny young man that stood in front of him, friendly but guarded with a slight underbite. “What?”

 

The young man studied him for a moment. “They announced our group. Guess you couldn’t hear over the music.”

 

“Shit.” Jon shot to his feet, whatever calm he had been able to summon vanishing as panic set in. He yanked the earbuds from his ears, stashing his phone into his bag and chucking it down the hall towards the dressing rooms. “Thanks…” he trailed off, not quite sure to whom he owed a debt of gratitude.

 

“Olly.” the boy stated, offering his hand for a quick handshake. “Best of luck, Snow.”

 

“You as well.” Jon returned the grasp firmly, and they both set off at a quick pace, joining the rest of their competitors in line. Jon had barely reached to head of his group then his name was announced, Tyrion and Dei waving him over for one last bout of advice and well wishes.

 

“Remember, focus, Snow. I know that you feel confident about this new program, but don’t lose your edge. Connect, perform, land those fucking quads.” Tyrion’s mismatched eyes held no mirth for once, just a sheer determination that made Jon think perhaps he wasn’t the only one thinking deeply on Daenerys Targaryen today. He nodded once, offering his hand and Tyrion grasped in quickly, squeezing once in encouragement before releasing him.

 

“Feel the music, Jon. Follow her lead.” Dei leaned in to give him a hug, her words for him only as she leaned in to speak directly into his ear. “If you open this,” her right hand came to rest on his chest, directly over his heart. “You can’t go wrong.”

 

He nodded, pulling the skate guards off and handing them to Dei. “See you on the other side.”

 

Jon stepped out onto the ice, taking a lap to settle himself before reaching center ice and taking his starting pose. His thoughts were still rather jumbled, but the music started before he could panic, and suddenly, it was as if  _ she  _ was there with him. Her lavender scent filled his nose, lingering in the air somehow, and he could have sworn he felt her gentle squeeze of his hand and he was off, chasing the spirit of her across the ice.

 

_ If you're not the one for me _

_ Then how come I can bring you to your knees _

_ If you're not the one for me _

_ Why do I hate the idea of being free _

 

Her laugh flitted back to him, the sound of it lifting him, making him buoyant as he threw himself into his first jump pass. Her smile as he landed cleanly, perfectly, the best reward he could have asked for in this moment. 

 

_ And if I'm not the one for you _

_ You've gotta stop holding me the way you do _

_ Oh honey if I'm not the one for you _

_ Why have we been through what we have been through _

 

In the step sequence, he could have sworn he felt her hand in his, guiding him, matching him, grounding him through the sequence Dei had improved greatly.

 

_ It's so cold out here in your wilderness _

_ I want you to be my keeper _

_ But not if you are so reckless _

 

Another jump pass, his legs starting to burn, but there was the slide of her hair across his hand, the silkiness of it comforting him, the color of it starshine in his mind’s eye propelling him upwards. 

 

_ If you're gonna let me down, let me down gently _

_ Don't pretend that you don't want me  _

 

Another clean landing, her joy now bubbling up, mixing with his own. He could feel her breath, feel his own inhales and exhales slowing to match her own, her strength and fire racing through him, igniting his spirit, propelling him forward.

 

_ Our love ain't water under the bridge _

 

A final spin sequence, the feel of her pressed against him, their centers of gravity perfectly aligned, the whisper of a kiss on the cheek and then the music was over, finished. Full sensation returned to him as the crowd surged to their feet, the ovation deafening as he looked around in confusion, now feeling bereft and lost and small.

 

Jon fought to keep himself together, to not collapse on the ice, to not withdraw again as her presence vanished. Instead, he channelled every bit of her that he could, recalling her dazzling smile with one of his own, her grace in her bows, her grateful waves to the crowds. Performed in her memory, his actions didn’t seem as mundane and perfunctory. Instead, he fully embraced her enthusiasm and determination, and it carried him off ice and into the arms of others he loved.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The flight had been long, almost nine hours. They had gotten caught in a Nor’easter and almost had to divert to New York or Philly, but their pilot seemed to have been made of sterner stuff than most, and had put the pedal to the metal and gotten them through the worst of the storm. Only to then be made to circle above Logan International for two hours while crews on the ground de-iced runways and valiantly tried to clear grounded aircraft to get the planes in the air to the ground as safely and swiftly as possible.

 

Tyrion still gripped the armrest of his seat with iron fingers, each bump of turbulence sending the recently sober man deeper into his own mind as he searched for knowledge to help calm him. Jon normally would have tried to engage his coach in some form of conversation that would have allowed Tyrion to constantly hear the sound of his own voice, but Jon was anxious to reach the ground as well.

 

As soon as they landed, Jon launched himself out of his seat, his goodbyes to Tyrion and Dei already said, and grabbed his bag from the overhead compartment. Dei had kindly agreed to get his checked bag for him and bring it to the gym the next morning as their Olympic prep would now start in earnest. Jon would normally would have no problems taking it himself, but there was something he needed to do.

 

The drive from Boston to Winterfell had never taken longer, the ice and snow from said Nor’easter making the roads almost impassable. Luckily, as a born and bred Masshole, Jon had no fear and bravely struck out, the only thoughts in his mind of her.

 

He had to tell her himself. She deserved that much from him. It almost felt as if it couldn’t be real until she knew, and had given him her blessing. Guilt and excitement battled within him, guilt that he had achieved on his own what they had fought so hard to achieve together, and excitement at the prospect of finally,  _ finally  _ having a chance to fully embrace his potential, and to represent his country. He would be the underdog, no doubt, but he couldn’t help but feel that he actually had a chance, and that was all he needed.

 

As Jon pulled into the parking lot of Horn Hill General, he saw Jorah loading his car and getting ready to depart for the evening. Jon pulled into the space beside him, raising a hand in greeting, and fighting down an absurd sense of jealousy that came over him. Jorah nodded in return, waiting in the swirling snow as Jon extracted himself from the driver’s seat and tromped over to him.

 

“I hear congratulations are in order?” Jorah rarely smiled, and this moment was no exception, but he did offer Jon a congratulatory handshake, which Jon took and returned with a bit more force than was necessary. The older man didn’t even wince, just stared at Jon balefully. “Visiting hours are almost over.”

 

“I know.” Jon replied, releasing Jorah’s hand and rubbing the back of his neck. “Flight was delayed.”

 

“Best hurry, then.” Jon nodded, about to open his mouth to reply when Jorah continued. “Try to let her down gently. You know how much she wanted this.”

 

Jon bristled, insulted that Jorah would think that he had come all this way to brag to an invalid. “I would never--”

 

Jorah raised his hand, obviously uninterested in any explanation that Jon might have. “Do you remember what I told you the night of your first appearance of Nationals?”

 

Jon could feel his face heating immediately, years later still embarrassed by his conduct that day. He cleared his throat. “You said that Dany carried a well of disappointment larger than all of us within her, and it was our job to make sure she didn’t drown beneath the waves.”

 

Jorah said nothing, but raised an eyebrow before climbing inside his own car and pulling away, raising a hand in salute as his car pulled out of the parking lot. Jon stared after him for a moment, resentment rolling around in his stomach like a badly digested meal, before shaking himself and heading indoors.

 

The halls were quiet, visiting hours rarely observed in the first week of January after the primetime rush of holiday visits. It was almost eerie, the holiday decorations drooping sadly now. He followed the familiar path to Room 333, his heart now thundering in his ears as each step drew him closer and closer to her, Jorah and Arya’s words swirling and tangling in his mind.

 

He reached for the doorknob, pausing to gather himself before he pushed open the door, the soft light of the lamps Dei had brought in to soften the harsh fluorescent hospital lighting leaving the room awash in a warm glow. His gaze traipsed around the room, taking in the plush throws, the flowers that friends and fans had delivered for the holidays, finally resting on a blue glass-blown rose that occupied the vase closest to her bed.

 

Finally, his gaze came to rest on her, so small and pale, but still as lovely as ever. The ventilator blocked his view of her beautiful face, so he carefully settled into the chair next to her bedside, and gently took her limp hand within his own. 

 

It was quiet in the room, save for the steady beeping of the machines that were working nonstop to make sure that Dany received all of the nutrients she needed to keep her strong. Jon fought back the tears that now threatened to leak from his eyes, wanting to be strong for her, but now that he was sitting here, realizing how much he deeply missed her. 

 

Her hands, normally so warm in his grip were cold, so he took a moment to bring one of the blankets up around her chest, and took her hand in his, rubbing it lightly to bring warmth back. Slowly, he brought her hand to his mouth, gently breathing onto her fingers, anxious to feel the heat of her return.

 

“I have news.” he said quietly, struggling to keep his voice even as he took in her still features, no sense of awareness behind her closed eyelids. “The Short Program went well, but something tells me you already know that.”

 

He reached for her other hand, drawing it into his grasp to repeat the same actions as with her other. “Thank you, by the way. I don’t know how you did that, but I’m grateful.” He folded her hands together, keeping them clasped within his grip. “The Free Skate didn’t go as well. I think the word Tyrion used was ‘unfortunate’. Got beat by a 13 year old named Olly… Lucky for me he’s too young to go the Olympics, but he’s got a promising career ahead of him. I’ll have to watch out for him someday… Unless you come back to protect me from him. Get on that, won’t you?”

 

He paused, searching her face, so relaxed in its repose, but wanting nothing more than to shake her out of this unnatural slumber, to see that fierce gaze of hers once more. If there was anything that would wake her up, it might be what he had to say next.

 

“I’m going, Dany. To the Olympics. It’s in just a few weeks, and we have a ton of shit to prepare, but we made it… I wouldn’t let Jorah tell you. It had to be me…” A tear splashed down on their joined hands, Jon surprised to find that he was still crying. “I wish it was the both of us. I’m sorry it can’t be, for now.”

 

“Ahem.” a clearing of the throat behind him, had Jon launching himself out of the chair, spinning to find Dr. Tarly gazing down on them with sympathy. “Sorry to interrupt Jon, but visiting hours are over. You know I’d let you stay late, but Dany and I have a number of things to do this evening, don’t we Miss Storm?”

 

Jon nodded, dashing a hard across his face to clear the tears, his chest constricting as he fought to bring himself under his usually tight control. “Of course. Just had something to tell her.”

 

Dr. Tarly regarded him, his normally jovial gaze scrutinizing them both. “Ah, yes. I did hear something about you doing well. I take it congratulations are in order?” Jon nodded again. “I’ll bet she’s proud of you.”

 

Jon glanced down at Dany, her hand still firmly clasped in his own. “I hope so.” he stated, leaning down to softly brush a kiss to her cheek, his lips finding her face warmer than her hands, at the very least. He studied her, his heart full of all the things that wouldn’t be fair to either of them to say. “I hope so.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hugs*
> 
> Guys, he wasn't supposed to see her yet, but Jon got all in my face about "I have to tell her myself" and here we all are. *offers tissues and chocolate freely*


	8. Dany - Winter 2014

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany and Tyrion deal with the aftermath of Nationals, and introduce Jon to a certain tradition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi All,
> 
> I am so sorry about the unexpected week off! Work was insane and then my laptop was out of commission over last weekend. I'm slowly coming back to normal, but this week's chapter is only half of what I had originally intended, so Part 2 will follow next week. Didn't want to leave you all hanging for 2 weekends in a row.
> 
> Thanks to you all for sticking with me. Hope you enjoy! <3

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Finding the key to unlock Jon Snow was a bit like a treasure hunt. Dany could see the map laid out clearly before  her, but there were pitfalls and traps along the way. If she wasn’t careful, she would fall headlong into those traps and never recover herself, but damn if she wasn’t intrigued by the treasure at the end of the journey. Dany was half afraid that he had already managed to unveil something within herself that, like Pandora, would never be able to be put back into the locked box of her heart.

 

That first night at the bar had laid them both bare. Dany was shocked at the level of vulnerability she had shown him, blaming the events of the day and her fear of Cersei’s retribution for the openness she had displayed. Later, as Pod had dropped her off first, Jon safely tucked away in the backseat, she turned in her seat to him. The wine had loosened her tongue, giving her liquid courage which she grasped with both hands. “Thank you.” she said quietly, catching Jon’s warm gaze.

 

“Oh, it’s no trouble, Miss Storm.” Pod smiled at her, throwing the car into park and running around to open her door. Her lips quirked up in a smile, fighting to keep from laughing at Pod’s misunderstanding. She was thankful to him too, although she could have easily walked home from Bronn’s bar by herself.

 

Jon chuckled as he threw open his door as well, climbing out of the backseat to switch to the front. Dany felt a thrill course through her, her mind racing as she tried to think if she had ever heard him laugh before. In the eight months they had been working together, she was fairly certain that she hadn’t heard much more than a huff of breath that could have passed as a laugh in some circles, and tried to ignore the sudden spiral of joy that coursed through her at the sound.

 

Pod opened her door, and she climbed out with much less grace than she normally possessed, keeping a hand on the doorframe for balance. “You alright?” Jon said softly, the tone of care taking her by surprise, the warmth of it soothing her almost as much as the conversations they had shared that evening.

 

“Fine.” she closed her eyes for a moment, gathering her equilibrium before she let go of her grip on the car. She would have loved to find a way to keep him here, keep him talking for the rest of the night. A part of her was terrified that no matter what progress they had made, that the other Jon Snow would appear tomorrow, and they would be right back to where the started. She hoped that her fears would prove to be in vain, but only time would tell. “We’ll have to figure out the cars tomorrow, I’m afraid.”

 

“S’alright.” Jon slurred slightly, solidifying Bronn’s decision to take their keys and offer Pod’s services to get them both safely home. Dany briefly wondered what his ale had tasted like, and whether or not those sweet and nutty notes would still lay on his lips and tongue even now…

 

Dany visibly shook herself. No. She would not do this. She would not go down this dark path with Jon, no matter how his gentle words and somber eyes may have lodged in her heart and mind over the course of the evening. They were partners, nothing more, and it would do her good to remember that. Jon certainly wouldn’t forget it.

 

Jon’s eyebrows shot skyward at her shiver. “Cold?” he asked, reaching for the lapels of her coat, and drawing the zipper up to her chin, his fingers grazing her neck ever so slightly. Dany shivered again, a spark of something she didn’t want to examine too closely shooting through her and she stepped back out of Jon’s reach, desperate to keep her distance before she did something impulsive and regretful brought on by wine and a growing sense of… _belonging_.

 

“I-” her voice cracked, and she swallowed tightly, wrapping her arms around her middle to further the impression that she was, indeed, cold, when she actually felt as if the growing heat of his presence and touch would overwhelm her, igniting a fire that if she wasn’t careful, would consume them both, leaving nothing but ashes in their wake. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

His dark eyes were studying her closely, his gaze lingering on her lips in the way one who has had too much to drink is wont to do, trying to match the sounds with the movement as if it would help bring clarity to an already muddled mind. At least, that was what she told herself as she turned without waiting on a response, eager to put has much distance between herself and Jon Snow as current geography allowed, fleeing from this man, and all of the confusion he brought with him.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Her conversation with Tyrion the next morning had not gone well. The hangover didn’t help either, but Dany considered it an acceptable price to pay for the peace of mind with which she awoke.

 

“Coffee?” Tyrion asked, plunking a full cup in front of her, its contents sloshing all over her kitchen table. Her glare went unnoticed as she rose from her chair to retrieve paper towels and wipe up the mess, trying to keep the contents of her stomach inside of her as the bitter burnt smell of the coffee assaulted her senses.

 

“You know I prefer tea.” she bit out, the still hot coffee burning her fingertips as she soaked up the spill.

 

Tyrion’s bitter laugh rang out as he studied her. “I know you would prefer actually have a job and career tomorrow morning, however you were the one that decided to put all of that in jeopardy with your behavior yesterday.”

 

Dany froze, dragging her eyes to meet his gaze, the knot of fear she had been ignoring since the incident unfurling uncomfortably in her chest . “Did Cersei file with the Skating Federation?”

 

“She should.” Tyrion looked a bit pale, no doubt a lingering side effect of his illness the day before, but his mismatched eyes held a graveness today that gave her pause. “She would have filed had I still been working with them.”

 

“But?” Her throat felt as if she had something stuck in it, her words garbled as she struggled to speak.

 

Tyrion sighed, reaching for his own cup of coffee and slurping it down. “But, my brother and I are still on good terms.” Dany let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. “Jaime listens to me, and Cersei listens to Jaime.”

 

“And?”

 

“And I managed to convince Jaime that if Cersei were to file with the Federation about yesterday’s ‘incident’, that we would be filing a suit of our own.”

 

Dany blinked, unsure. “What suit?”

 

Tyrion studied her for a moment, his shrewd gaze traveling over her features. “Dei told me about your costume.”

 

Dany nodded. “We’re not sure if it actually was cut, but it certainly did look like it.”

 

“There were a few too many ‘coincidences’ yesterday. I simply told Jaime that if Cersei were to file assault charges on you, that we would ask for an official investigation into yesterday’s competition. After all, we only want America’s best to represent Team USA in the Olympic Games. Jaime immediately agreed to speak to Cersei. My guess is that with Father finally gone, she’s getting desperate to win, and with that desperation, she’s getting sloppy.”

 

Dany shivered again, the hair raising on her arms at the implication. According to Jon, if left unchecked, Cersei’s actions could inadvertently cause deadly results. Her stomach churning in earnest now, Dany picked up the coffee cup in front of her and turned the contents of it into the sink. She braced herself against the counter, taking a deep breath before turning to face her coach. “Thank you, Tyrion.” she said, her voice small.

 

“Just…” his voice trailed off, the edge of frustration abating with her thanks. “Don’t fucking do anything like that ever again, or this dream of yours will be over before it ever truly gets off the ground.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“All right, you two.” Tyrion’s voice echoed across the empty ice rink. “I think we need to run the step sequence a few more times before we knock off for the evening. You’re still not--”

 

“But Tyrion…” Dany all but whined, surreptitiously checking her watch for the third time and glancing over at Dei, standing next to Tyrion. “It’s almost time.”

 

“Time for what?” Jon skidded to a stop beside her, reaching for her wrist as he checked the time himself. His fingers lingered along the delicate bones there as he adjusted the watch so he could see the time. Dany felt her breath catch in her throat, and she swallowed back the impulse to lean into him, breathe in his unique scent and lose herself for the moment in the essence of him. “Dany?”

 

She jerked her hand out of his grasp, her eyes flying open and immediately catching on his deep gaze, his eyes the color of melted chocolate this afternoon. “Ticklish, sorry.” She said, rubbing the lingering sensation of his gentle touch from her skin. “What was the question?”

 

Jon studied her for a moment, his eyes narrowed. “Time for what?”

 

She grinned up at him, unable to keep the bubbling excitement beneath the surface any longer. “Tradition.” She spun out, impulsively grabbing him by the hand and pulling him along behind her as she made her way towards Tyrion, Davos, and Dei. “Please, Tyrion? We have to get to the bar before all the good seats are taken.”

 

“Do you guys do trivia or something? I don’t think--”

 

Dany squeezed Jon’s hand, stopping his fumbling words. “Do you not know what tonight is?”

 

Jon’s nose crinkled in confusion, his eyes flicking to Tyrion and Dei, anxious to see if he had missed something obvious like a birthday, no doubt, before resting on her once more. “No?”

 

Dany gasped, her hand fluttering over her chest in mock horror. “Well, we’ll have to fix that, won’t we?” She winked at him before turning to Dei. “We got us an OC Virgin!”

 

Dei clucked her tongue, shaking her head with barely controlled mirth. “By all the gods!”

 

“What are you two--” He pulled his hand out of Dany’s grasp, bringing his arms up to fold defensively across his chest.

 

Dany ignored him, her focus now solely on Tyrion. “See? We have to induct him-- that will take up even more time. We have to go now.”

 

Tyrion smirked at her in response before finally raising his hands in defeat. “All right, all right. It’s just your careers, your dreams--” He didn’t get any further before Dany and Dei both squealed, and Dei even went so far as to drop a quick kiss on Tyrion’s cheek as Dany grabbed her skate guards and quickly put them on, anxious to get changed. “C’mon Snow, you heard the man! Let’s go -- changed and ready in ten!”

 

Jon looked to Davos in confusion, the older man joining him at the wall and shrugging at the silent question. “You still haven’t said what tonight is.”

 

Dany spun around, her smile bright. “It’s the Opening Ceremonies for Sochi tonight. We always get together and watch.” Jon started to shake his head, so she stepped toward him, planting herself directly in front of him with her arms crossed to match his. “It’s _tradition,_ Snow, or didn’t you hear me?”

 

She tried in vain to keep a stern gaze on her face, but knew by the sudden quirk of his lips that she was failing miserably. “You’re a part of the team now. You have to join. The Parade of Nations is my favorite part! And everyone has to stay at least until they declare the Games open.”

 

“Isn’t that at the very end?” Jon’s eyes glinted in suspicion and Dany had to bite her lip to keep the laugh from escaping.

 

“And, what if it is?” she asked primly.

 

Jon sighed and turned to Davos who was watching with a small grin of his own. “Don’t look at me.” he said, his gaze flicking back and forth among the group. “I have always been a follower of tradition.”

 

Dany could feel herself positively beaming at the older man. “It’s settled then.” She shifted her gaze back to Jon, lifting an eyebrow in defiance. “Now, times-a-wastin’! Let’s get a move on.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

They got to the bar just in time, and managed to find a table large enough for all of them near the only TV that Bronn would deign to show the Ceremony on. “I have to run a business, don’t I? Until the Games actually start this thing is boring as shit.”

 

Dany pouted at him, pitying the man and his ignorance, but allowed that each person had their faults. “Where’s the remote, Bronn? I can’t hear the TV.”

 

“Closed captioning will have to do the trick for you lot.” He shot a wink at her, motioning for Pod to bring waters for everyone at the table and get drink orders. “Tell you what though. First time you and Broody over there make it to the Olympics, I’ll put the sound on then.”

 

Dany narrowed her eyes at him, a retort on the tip of her tongue when Jon surprised them all by offering his hand to Bronn. “Deal.” he said steadily, taking the bartender’s hand and shaking it firmly. “We’ll hold you to it.”

 

Dei cut Dany an amused glance, her hand reaching up to cover the smile and stifle the laugh at Jon’s solemn vow. Bronn studied Jon, his forehead somehow gaining more creases as he smiled. “I’ll bet you will.”

 

Over the course of the evening, Dany allowed herself to be coaxed into telling the story of how this tradition had come about, starting with her parents and brother when she was small, and expanding over the years. Her few happy moments in childhood could be traced back to this tradition, and she cherished the memories of the sense of family over everything else. The ideas of the Olympic Games, that they bring everyone together under the banner of international cooperation, fair play, and sportsmanship resonated with her in a way that was hard to describe, try though she might.

 

Somehow, she had Jon ended up sequestered at the corner of the table closest to the television, the other three lost in their own conversation at the other end. She stared up at the images flickering across the TV, her heart swelling in pride as Team USA was announced and this year’s lucky athletes stepped out onto the track. “It’s just so beautiful! Think of it, Jon-- it must be the most exciting feeling in the world. The moments before there are winners and losers, and we are all just Olympians - equals.”

 

Silence answered her, and she shifted in her seat, dropping her eyes to find Jon studying her thoughtfully, the glow of the television highlighting the harsh planes of his face, somehow softening his often stern look into something gentler, more pliable.

 

_Dangerous..._

 

His gaze lingered on her, and Dany felt powerless to look away, swept up in the genuine happiness of the moment, the flicker of jealousy sparking in her blood as she thought of Cersei and Jaime there dampening as the heat of Jon’s stare ignited other, more powerful feelings within her. She reached for her glass of wine and took a sip, her tongue reaching out to capture the droplets clinging to her lips, and almost sputtered when Jon reached out, his thumb catching a drop she had missed. She froze, watching as he studied the drop of red wine before he reached for a napkin and wiped his hand.

 

Dany swallowed tightly, thankful that he hadn’t put his thumb in his own mouth, sucking the liquid from his warm skin, his own smooth tongue sweeping out over his supple lips-- “The Parade of Nations has always been my favorite part!” she squeaked, tearing her gaze from his and shifting back to look at the television.

 

“You said that earlier.” his voice rumbled low in his chest.

 

“Well, it’s true.”

 

“We’ll get there, Dany. Together. Remember?”

 

Dany nodded, losing her battle with nonchalance and bringing her gaze back to his, the warmth of it coaxing her to give into it, give into him in a way that she _must_ fight against, lest she lose herself again. Steeling herself, she took another sip of wine for fortitude, studying the figures on the screen. _“_ Next time, Jon Snow. _”_

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? I told you we'd have some fun and fluffiness! Sort of... :D


	9. Dany - Summer 2014

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The music faded as he brought her up gently, his warm gaze now searching her own. Dany offered him a small smile, before reaching up to pull her earbuds from her ears, and realizing her mouth had gone quite dry. “Um… Hi.” she offered shyly, wetting her lips and taking a deep breath to get air circulating to the rest of her as quickly as possible.
> 
> “Hi.” he studied her for a moment, his gaze taking in her slightly flushed face, her rapidly rising and falling chest as she fought to get herself back under control. “What did we just skate to?”

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The rest of the spring and summer flew by in a haze. New programs to learn, new choreography to master, new jumps and lifts to perfect, all in the name of one goal. By this time next year, she and Jon would be National Champions. All they had to do was stay focused, injury free, and determined and that title would be theirs.

 

Everyone knew that the Lannister’s were floundering. Their National Championship had proven to be a fluke, the success they enjoyed unable to be repeated at the Sochi games, or since. Many blamed their struggle on the fact that since their father/coach’s passing, no one else had stepped in to assume that position. In fact, it was rumored that Cersei was the one who had complete control, taking on skating, coaching, and choreography herself, trusting none but her brother. 

 

Dany tried her hardest not to feel smug about the “unfortunate” occurrences, but as of yet was unsuccessful. She did, however, keep to her bargain with Tyrion and did everything within her power to not engage with either Lannister twin whenever their paths did cross. Jon had proven indispensable in this, refusing to leave her side once she exited the dressing rooms, sticking to her like glue. Dei also kept close-- the entire team knew that the only real reason Cersei hadn’t pursued a suit was because the entire debacle would fall into a she said/she said debate as both parties had witnesses. Dany and Dei would staunchly defend that Dany had been provoked, and Cersei and Taena were sure to cook up some heinous lie.

 

Either way, Dany couldn’t help but feel as if she had escaped some form of cruel and unusual punishment, while simultaneously being rewarded for notoriously bad behavior. She also found that with Jon’s unwavering support, she had little left within her to care. Over the months following their heart to heart, he had begun to open to her, as delicately as a new spring bloom. His smiles came easier, his eyes often held a lightness and amusement that hinted at a broader sense of humor than she had previously thought possible, and his voice… The timbre of his tenor resonated within her and she found herself engaging him in pointless conversations about the weather (“This heatwave is something else, isn’t it? The humidity alone, my God.”) just to hear the sound of it, the rush of surprised breath when he laughed quickly becoming her favorite sound in the world.

 

Also, gym days were becoming a fucking  _ problem. _ Weight training was a regular part of their sport, and she and Jon spent at least 1-2 days a week doing nothing other than working out. Her workouts were more for flexibility, tone, stamina, and core strength. Jon’s however… In order to (in some cases, as the lift called for it) dead-lift a grown woman over one’s head, one needed a ridiculous amount of strength-- hence the many hours spent lifting weights, engaging in aerobic exercises, and intensive strength training.

 

Dany had long ago noticed his habit of working out fully clothed, but hadn’t bothered to give it much thought, their working relationship being strictly professional at the best of times, and incredibly strained at the worst. Now that ice was beginning to melt, Dany found herself more and more drawn to pulling at the thread of Jon Snow, unraveling further and further until he was laid bare before her, in more ways than one.

 

“I just don’t get it, Dei.” Dany wrinkled her nose against the strange smell emanating from her water bottle, resisting the urge to sniff more deeply and instead throwing the bottle back into her gym bag with a mental note to give it an intense scrubbing that evening. “Never. Not once have I seen him without a shirt.” 

 

Dei gave her a suspicious look. “Is that so odd?”

 

Dany paused, her mind wandering back through her previous partners. Viserys was her brother and barely counted, but the man had constantly paraded himself around like some put-upon king, expecting all around him to tremble in the awe of his presence in whatever state of dress he presented himself. Drogo could be counted on to never wear a shirt, finding them restrictive and limiting. He had even tried to convince their costumer at the time to allow him to compete shirtless (which Irri had firmly put the kibosh on) compromising instead with the promise that he would, at the very least, never have to wear sleeves. Daario had been of a similar mindset, an exhibitionist in his own right.

 

“Odd may be too strong a word for it.” she drew her lower lip between her teeth, her gaze unintentionally ( _ Sure, Dany _ . she chided herself) wandering over to where Jon was completing another set of reps on the lat pull-down machine, the sweat pouring from his brow on yet another particularly warm summer day. “Unusual though.”

 

“You know you just used two words that mean almost exactly the same thing, right?”

 

Dany tore her gaze from the sight of Jon pulling the bar down behind his shoulders, the tight t-shirt he was wearing doing nothing to hide the play of his deltoids and biceps, and the ripples of motion the exercises caused. “Huh?”

 

Dei shook her head, pulling her own water bottle out of her bag and handing it to Dany. “Down, girl.”

 

Dany flushed to the roots of her hair, sputtering in response, fanning her reddened cheeks as the heat spread. “I wasn’t -, I mean, he-- I just.”

 

“Shhhhhh.” Dei wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in for a tight squeeze and turning her away from the unintentional floor show that was Jon Snow. “I know. It’s just best not to think about it. You know?”

 

Dany wilted a bit, knowing that Dei was correct and that even if she hadn’t signed that fucking contract, professionalism would still dictate that she keep her tongue in her own mouth and not down the throat of her partner. Instead, she decided to take the high road, fleeing his presence and walking briskly to the rink, needing to cool off both figuratively and literally. 

 

She started with a few laps to bring her racing heartbeat under control and allowing her still heated face to cool. Her eyes drifted closed as she flew across the ice, the breeze in her face and hair calming her. Taking out her phone, she cued up her music, an uncommon melancholy settling within her bones. She and Jon had been pouring over new music for weeks, trying to find something new and inventive for their new programs they would be presenting for the upcoming season. They hadn’t quite found what they were looking for yet, something about the artists they had chosen ringing false in her ears.

 

On a whim, she selected one of her favorites, Adele, from her artist list. She set the songs to shuffle, placing her earbuds firmly in her ears and quickly lost herself in the soothing sound of her unique, breathy voice. If there was anyone who understood thwarted attraction it was Adele. 

 

And that’s all it was-- attraction. Dany knew better than to follow her thoughts any further beyond that point. That way lie madness, and she was absolutely certain that if she were to indulge in the whim that was Jon Snow, she would find herself burned beyond recognition, no matter the kindness now more prevalent in his actions everyday, the softness in his eyes when he would look at her when he thought she wasn’t paying attention, and his readiness to engage with her everyday. He was slowly changing, growing now with her instead of separately from her, and their partnership was improving everyday.

 

The songs continued to play and flow around her, wrapping and tangling with her thoughts as Dany moved instinctively over the ice, feeling the music deeply within her bones. Her blades flying across the ice soon took on a mind of their own, an improvised choreography coming from within her - a layback spin here, a double axel there, the spiral she had been working to improve for months finally coming together out from under the watchful eye of Tyrion. The music continued to carry her, her feelings of frustration and melancholy pouring out of her and over the ice, laying her heart and soul more bare than she would have liked, but feeling it was necessary to let go of these useless and unproductive feelings that could go nowhere.

 

The strong chords of a new song began, the simple piano intro lifting Dany’s spirits when suddenly, she sensed she wasn’t alone anymore. She opened her eyes to find Jon watching her from the wall where Tyrion normally stood. She wasn’t quite sure how long she had been out here, or how long he had been watching, but she lifted a hand in greeting. He nodded back, apparently taking her wave as an invitation to join her on the ice. She pulled out one of her earbuds and he shook his head, taking it from her hand and gently placing it back in her ear, his fingers lingering along her jawline just a hair longer than necessary before leaning close and whispering “Just skate with me.”

 

Dany felt her heart leap into her throat at the sound of his voice mixing with the song currently playing, almost instantly overwhelmed.  _ When the rain is blowing in your face / And the whole world is on your case…  _ Her hand found his, gently drawing him out further onto the ice, testing to see how this would work. He couldn’t hear the music, but they had grown enough as partners that he should be able to follow her lead with just the subtle shifts of hands. It was a dance after all.

 

_ I could offer you a warm embrace / To make you feel my love…   _ Dany blushed slightly, turning away from him so he couldn’t see her face as the lyrics washed over her, guiding him into the spiral she had just perfected, his hands drifting down her leg to grab her ankle and pull her gently along, Dany’s arms stretching forward to elongate every line, just as Dei had taught her.  _ When the evening shadows and the stars appear / And there is no one there to dry your tears… _

 

Jon let go of her ankle, pulling her flush with him, as he matched his position to hers, inviting her to follow him into a camel spin -- his back pressed against her own, his right leg coming up to match hers in an open arabesque, his hand slowly traveling over her midsection, guiding her center of gravity into his own, the delicate balance needed to achieve a successful spin in the position now as natural as breathing.  _ Oh, I hold you for a million years /To make you feel my love… _

 

Dany was the first to exit the spin, now turning to face Jon, and drawing him in closely, her arms coming to rest on his shoulders, her hands framing his face before pushing him slightly away, her hand never leaving his, but leading him to build speed for a throw loop.  _ I know you haven't made your mind up yet / But I will never do you wrong…  _ He took the direction beautifully, pulling her back into his chest, his hands settling firmly on her hips until they both bent their knees, and Jon threw her as hard and as far as he could. Dany flew through the air, her mind full of nothing but the song, the sensations of his hands on her, the warmth of his breath on the back of her neck juxtaposed against the sudden harshness of the flight through the air, the briskness of the cool ice air stinging a bit.  

 

_ I've known it from the moment that we met / No doubt in my mind where you belong…  _ She sucked in a deep breath as she landed, throwing her arms out for balance as she landed cleanly on one foot, her excitement taking over as she turned to him in victory. The triumph was mirrored on his lovely face, for once free of solemnity and stoicism, his smile ( _ A full smile!)  _ bright, the beam of it momentarily paralyzing her and the next thing she knew, they were back in each other’s arms again, Jon immediately lowering into a sit spin, his right leg extended as she counterbalanced against his strong hands clasped behind her back, her left leg extending parallel to his right, and her arms threading around his neck.  _ The winds of change are blowing wild and free… _

 

Dany lost herself in the rest of the music, the words flowing over her without comprehension as she and Jon continued, his hands setting her upright on her skates and guiding her into position for a press lift, his strong fingers tangling with her own, and suddenly, she was airborne again, his arm locked above his head as as she spread her legs as far as she could, bring her center of gravity tucked under, centering on their hands between her legs. He spun slowly.  _ I could make you happy, make your dreams come true… _

 

Dany leaned forward, flipping over Jon’s arm, trusting that Jon would catch her, bring her safely home. His gentle hands settled around her waist, his immense strength on display as he battled gravity to bring her safely to the ice once more. Dany settled her feet under her, drawing him close before sliding into a death spiral, her fingers locked in his, their eyes never leaving each other.  _ There's nothing that I wouldn't do / Go to the ends of this Earth for you / To make you feel my love, oh yes / To make you feel my love… _

 

The music faded as he brought her up gently, his warm gaze now searching her own. Dany offered him a small smile, before reaching up to pull her earbuds from her ears, and realizing her mouth had gone quite dry. “Um… Hi.” she offered shyly, wetting her lips and taking a deep breath to get air circulating to the rest of her as quickly as possible.

 

“Hi.” he studied her for a moment, his gaze taking in her slightly flushed face, her rapidly rising and falling chest as she fought to get herself back under control. “What did we just skate to?”

 

Dany ducked her head, not quite sure how to tell him, casting about desperately for something, anything appropriate to say. “Adele.” she finally settled on, knowing that she needed at least some semblance of the truth present to be believable. “Her soul speaks to mine.”

 

His inscrutable gaze didn’t change, but he did raise an eyebrow in question. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you skate like that before.”

 

She felt her brow wrinkle in confusion. “Like what?” She tried to ignore the breathiness of her voice, but she was having a hard time concentrating. Jon’s hand was still captured in her own, his sculpted chest rising and falling in perfect time with her own, and his eyes… If eyes could smolder, Jon’s were doing just that, unblinking and staring intensely down at her, fire coming in at the edges, igniting her from within and suddenly overwhelming her with the shared heat of them both.

 

His hand squeezed hers, drawing her closer to him until they were flush against each other, his other arm drawing around her waist, and for a moment Dany thought he was going to lean forward and capture her lips with his own, her breath catching as she leaned forward, eager to finally discover the taste of him, the strength in those lips and jaw when he turned his head, his lips instead brushing against her ear as he leaned in to whisper “Like you were born to this, like your soul had finally found its home.”

 

The sound of applause forced them apart, both springing from each other as if all the flames of hell and sprung up between them, blistering them instantly. Dany spun around, confused to find Tyrion, Dei, and Davos watching from the sidelines, Dei practically jumping up and down in excitement.

 

“That! That’s what we’ve been missing from your programs.” Tyrion’s voice rang out across the ice, beckoning them to join the rest of the team at the wall.

 

Dany glanced at Jon sheepishly, anxious to see if he had retreated from her once more, but he met her gaze steadily, his own blush retreating as he reached for her hand once more and they both glided to the wall. Tyrion, Dei, and Davos were in furious conversation, already plotting how to translate the rawness of what they had just witnessed into a polished program. Dei would need to go over the music to take their improvisation and tweak and add to bring it to competition level. Davos already chiming in that the new, more passionate side would do nothing but bring in more endorsements and sponsorships, and perhaps they should consider leaning into the characterization more.

 

Dany didn’t say anything, her mind as far as far could be from the conversation taking place in front of her, and focused solely on the man who now held her hand, and if she wasn’t very, very careful, would lay a stake in her heart as well.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter continues to exit my brain in drips and drabs. Still one more section of Dany before we go back to Jon in the "present", but for the life of me I can't get it out of my brain any faster.
> 
> Thanks again to Adele for being a wonderful inspiration! As you probably have already guessed, the song in this chapter is 'To Make You Feel My Love' from her wonderful album 19.
> 
> Also, I tried really hard to describe the figure skating moves properly, but if anyone has any questions, feel free to ask! There were too many to link.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! If you haven't already, feel free to say hi in the comments!


	10. Dany - Autumn 2014

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Dany have a little chat about Tyrion.

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

She fucking hated Nationals. It seemed like all she ever did was prepare for, compete in, and lose fucking Nationals. Tyrion was confident that this time around the loss part would prove to be inaccurate, but Dany wasn’t so sure. Last year, she had allowed a naive hope to take root, only to have it dashed against the rocks of despair. Thankfully, if they lost this year, at least she wouldn’t be missing out on two dreams-- to become the National Champion, _and_ to be awarded a spot on the US Olympic team.

 

This year, they could “relax”, and only focus on National Champion part without all the extra Olympic baggage. (Cake, absolute cake.) Yes, she was finding this whole ordeal completely “relaxing.” The workload was heavy and constant, every tweak in the choreography requiring hours of practice both on and off ice to make sure that every step, every lift, every throw, and jump were achieving the maximum amount of points they could possibly achieve, and to make sure that it was perfect every single time. Anything less than perfection would be unacceptable. She may have chosen not to bear the name Targaryen anymore, but it didn’t deny who she was deep down inside.

 

The strain was getting to her. She felt bad for Tyrion, who took the brunt of her dragon-ish nature. For a small man, he had large shoulders, more than capable of bearing the constant burden of her stress. He didn’t seem to mind too much, although despite his outwardly calm demeanor, they more often than not had to take advantage of Pod’s chauffeuring services to make sure that Tyrion was deposited home safely after a night at Bronn’s bar.

 

Jon was actually the first to bring that little tidbit to Dany’s attention. He had pulled her aside on the first brisk night of the season, the cool breeze signaling the end of summer and the harbinger of all the crispness of Autumn. Over the summer their team had become regulars of her little neighborhood watering hole, often retreating there to blow off some steam after a particularly long and grueling day. Dany was surprised to find how much she had come to enjoy hanging out as a group. (Lies. It was really just another way to spend more time with Jon, but she was loathe to admit that to anyone, much less herself.)

 

“Hey, got a minute?” Jon was holding open the door as she and Dei walked through to grab their usual table. Tyrion, Davos, and Jorah were already at the bar, trying to flag down Bronn’s attention. Dei shot a look over her shoulder, her eyes sparkling with mischief while they flicked back and forth between them both. Dany gave her a warning look and nodded for her to continue in before she turned to Jon.

 

“Of course. What’s up?” She squinted up at him against the last beams of sunlight, her mind suddenly swirling with all the possible reasons he could have to want to speak to her in private. Granted, the rest of the team was just indoors, and the constant come and go of the neighborhood locals would prevent any true isolation, but still… Baby steps. A small thrill coursed through her as he reached out to grasp her elbow, leading her to a picnic table that Bronn had set up at the end of the parking lot for the smokers to have some place comfortable to sit and relax.

 

His fingers burned, the heat of them juxtaposed against the rapidly cooling air, and Dany knew, just _knew_ that this was it, that he’d finally noticed how she couldn’t keep her eyes off of him at the gym, how every time he reached for her hand when not rehearsing her heartbeat juddered in her chest and pulse, how that day he had discovered her skating alone and joined her on the ice she had been so certain that he would lean down to kiss her, and how her breath caught in her throat every time he leaned down to whisper in her ear so intimately.

 

She quickly pulled her elbow out of his grasp, eager to take a seat at the picnic table before her knees gave out, the sudden want coursing through her, making her desperate for his touch in a way that she had not felt since… God, Daario at the very least. And oh god -- Jon had been speaking this entire time, the dull roar of his voice sharpening in her ears as he nudged her. “Dany? What do you think?”

 

Her eyes flew to his, her voice stuck in her throat as she stared at him for just a moment, taking in the sight of him in the dying sunlight, his broad shoulders set with determination, his hands shoved deeply into his pockets to ward off the unexpected growing chill of the oncoming night air, his hair loose and falling around his sternly set face, the only hint of softness coming in at the corners of his mouth, ever so slightly turned up in a smile-- for her, and her alone. He nodded at her again, and Dany swallowed, willing herself to pull it the fuck together and start acting like a capable woman and not some starstruck, lovesick girl.

 

“I’m so sorry, I’m going to need you to start over.” Jon stared at her for a moment, his deep brown eyes squinting at her in question before he took a deep breath and started again.

 

“I’m worried about Tyrion.”

 

Dany blinked, her hopes crashing down around her and shattering at her feet. It was a moment before she could speak again, even longer before she could gather her courage to look him in the eyes once more. She had been so sure… But no. She shook her head, trying to clear the fuzziness from her brain and took a steadying breath. She would deal with her disappointment later. “Why?”

 

Jon ducked his head, suddenly embarrassed and sheepish, and Dany had to blink again, wondering at the transformation from confident and solid to this now timid and hesitant young man standing before her. She was suddenly struck by how young they both were in truth. She would be turning 25 in just a few short weeks, with Jon just a year or two ahead of her, and here they were, balancing the weight of an international partnership with all of its twists and turns against much larger life issues of friends and family alike. And they were both still barely more than children, teenagers really, thrust into a life much larger than either of them could possibly hope to shoulder on their own.

 

“He’s been drinking a lot, and I’ve noticed him slurring during some of our practices.” Jon pulled his hands out of his pockets, raking his hands through his curls, taking a deep breath before continuing. “And he gets wasted every time we come here. Bronn asked me to chip in for gas if Pod is going to be expected to bring him home every night, and I just...” His voice trailed off again, the delicate hurt blossoming across his face in a way that made Dany want to sit on her hands to keep from reaching out and stroking his cheek, or to do other more intimate things to distract him from whatever dark path his thoughts were traipsing down.

 

“I can chip in for gas if that’s what you’re asking.” she said quietly, knowing that Jon was asking for no such thing, but if there was anything her experience with Viserys had taught her, it was that you couldn’t help someone until they decided that they needed help.

 

Jon sighed, the disappointment running across his face as he shook his head crushing her, and Dany couldn’t help but reach for one of his hands, lightly curling her fingers around his and squeezing. “I know, it’s not what you wanted to hear, but…” her own voice failed her, not knowing how to put her feelings into terms that Jon would understand.

 

“I just don’t want Tyrion to be responsible for something he’ll regret for the rest of his life.” Jon finally locked eyes with her, his fear plain in his eyes as they pleaded with her to help protect him from the crushing weight of responsibility, from all the pain and guilt wrapped up within him that no doubt began and ended with Ygritte.

 

Dany clung to his fingers, just as lost as he seemed to be, unsure of what to do, what next steps to take, but knowing that ultimately, Tyrion was the only one who could impact the decisions that Tyrion needed to make. “We’ll think about it and come up with something. Maybe we just stop coming here--?”

 

Jon cut her off before she could continue, “If we stop coming here, he’ll just drink elsewhere, and then who knows what will happen.”

 

Dany nodded, and reached for her purse, taking out her wallet and digging out a couple of twenties and pressing them into Jon’s palm. “Then, until we figure out how to talk to Tyrion about it, we’ll do everything in our power to make sure something tragic doesn’t happen.” Jon frowned, obviously disappointed in her response, but she didn’t know what else to say. Tyrion was a grown ass man who would make his own decisions whether the “kids” staged an intervention or not.

 

“We’re a team, Jon, all of us. And for me, being a team has always meant being a family. I don’t give up on family. Even when they repeatedly do things that hurt themselves and others. And you’re part of the team now, which means you’re a part of the family, _my family._ So is Tyrion. We’ll figure this out.”

 

A small smile spread over Jon’s face, and he squeezed her fingers around the twenty dollar bills before his hand slid free to put the bills in his pocket. She shivered, the last rays of sunlight disappearing under the horizon and the breeze picking up with a vengeance, tossing her hair up and around them both. “Cold?” Jon asked, shrugging out of his jacket before she could respond and dropping it around her shoulders, enveloping her in the scent of him. She froze for a moment, unsure of what to do next, but then breeze kicked up again and she grasped the lapels of the jacket, drawing herself further into the warmth he offered.

 

“Thanks.” she said quietly, sheer force of will keeping her from burying her nose in the jacket to absorb the unique scent of him, the fresh crispness that screamed of being out of doors, roaming the woods with no one but Ghost to keep him company.

 

He seemed to be studying her with an alarming sense of curiosity and concern, almost as if his mind were fighting as fierce an internal battle as she currently was. “What?” she asked, tilting her head back to study him more thoroughly, to take in the way his brow crinkled with apparently concern, the way the space between his eyebrows seemed to hold an inordinate amount of tension that she longed to reach up and rub away.

 

Jon hesitated for a moment, before sitting next to her, his hip and leg bumping against hers as she scooted over to make room for him next to her at the picnic table. “I just… There’s no easy way to ask this…”

 

Dany’s heart stilled for a moment, somehow knowing where this was going, her own thoughts of Viserys too prominent to not know that of course, of course he would ask her this-- she had just made a whole speech about family after all. She took a deep breath, once more gathering her courage as she leapt before he could push her off a cliff without a parachute. “Viserys is in a long-term rehabilitation center. Most of my salary goes to making sure that he’s comfortable.”

 

Jon didn’t say anything, but all of the tension in his face drained away, leaving only concern and was that… yes, yes abject affection in its wake. Dany felt her breath hitch in her chest and she pulled back slightly, shocked at the intensity of it, how she felt being the object of such admiration. “I told you.” she said, her voice trembling. “I don’t give up on family.”

 

Jon studied her for a moment, the rush of feeling fading from his features as his common sense took over and schooled his face into a much more composed, neutral look, but Dany knew-- she had seen, and somehow it was comforting to know that while he may not be ready in the slightest, at least she wasn’t alone in this.

 

Hesitantly, he reached forward, brushing a piece of her windswept hair behind her ear, his eyes glinting as the parking lot lights flickered on in the growing darkness. “Just so you know,” he spoke quietly, his words meant for her, and her alone. “I don’t give up on family either.” Dany smiled at him, her chest swelling at the declaration, and the thought that she had somehow grown in his estimation (and him in hers) so much in so short a time overwhelmed her-- the thought that someone could become so… _precious_ to her threatening to overtake all sense of reason and do things that she knew neither of them were ready for. At least, not yet…

 

“Oi!” the sudden shout from the bar captured both of their attention, shattering the delicate bubble they had constructed around themselves. Jon jerked his hand from lingering about her face, and they both turned expectantly to see Dei waving at them from the front door. “You assholes joining us, or what?”

 

Dany laughed, shattering the rest of the hovering tension. “Such a charming, well-bred young lady you’ve become!”

 

Dei giggled, her delight at discovering them so close obvious to Dany. “Fuck you, Storm.” she said goodnaturedly, a sly look coming across her face. “Unless, someone else--”

 

“ _Dei_ !” Dany shot to her feet, marching across the parking lot to face her former best friend when Jon’s chuckle stopped her dead in her tracks. She turned slowly to face him, sure that he would have been just as mortified at the implication as herself, but instead found him relaxed and amused. He walked up behind her still chuckling, and rested his hand on the small of her back, guiding her back to the door so they could join their friends and family inside, still wrapped up in his jacket, and her heart now almost entirely, hopelessly wrapped up in him.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I was hoping to get to the 2015 Nationals in this chapter, but life is just not allowing for a huge amount of writing time every week, so still one more chapter of Dany before we bounce back to Jon.
> 
> I continue to be blown away by all of the wonderful feedback this fic is receiving. Thank you all so much for your kind words, support, and most of all for taking the time to read! I very much appreciate all of the comments, and especially you, my dear readers (especially those of you giving a sports based fic a chance, even though it may not be your particular jam!) 
> 
> Thank you all so much. <3


	11. Dany - Nationals 2015

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany and Jon compete at their 2nd National Championship.

~*~*~*~*~*~  

 

If she thought that Jon Snow had turned over a new leaf after their heart to heart following their first Nationals loss, she was in for a world of surprise at the Jon that appeared after being declared family. He was like a man reborn - gone was the somber, contemplative partner she had grown used to, and now in his place was a steady, stable, and (dare she say it?)  _ happy _ young man who looked as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. He came to the rink every day with a smile on his face and a laugh on his lips, ready, willing, and able to do whatever was asked of him and more.

 

Dany couldn’t help but wonder at the changes that had come over him, rendering him almost completely unrecognizable from the wounded young man she had met all those months ago. He had always been polite, but that was a bit like calling Van Gogh’s  _ Starry Night _ “a nice painting”. Once you dug through the layers upon layers of baggage to get to the heart of him, he practically unfolded before your very eyes. The depth of him was staggering to her. 

 

He took her advice about how to handle the situation with Tyrion to heart, offering no judgement, and absolutely refusing to let her contribute any further to the ‘Tyrion Taxi’ fund. Instead, he and Davos seemed to make it their mission to take the Lannister under their wings, folding him seamlessly into their families’ holiday gatherings so that Tyrion wouldn’t have to face those days alone with nothing but ambition, regret, and a bottle of whiskey to wash away the harshness of being estranged from his own wildly diminished family.

 

As Nationals loomed ever closer, and the very real possibility of facing yet another attack (or retribution, depending on the point of view) from Cersei and Jaime, Jorah defaulted into what Dany affectionately referred to as “Mama Bear Mode”, much to Jorah’s chagrin. He hired a quiet young man named Grey from a private security firm and set about training him with an intensity and tenacity that would have alarmed Dany if she hadn’t been through it all before.

 

Jon on the other hand…

 

“Are you sure this is completely necessary?” Jon’s hands were shoved deep into his pockets, a stance that Dany noticed he defaulted to when he was unsure of the situation being presented to him.

 

Jorah and Grey stared at Jon without speaking, studying him the the harsh lighting of the rink. Jon seemed torn between wilting under Jorah’s gaze, and digging in to make his point. Sensing that the tension between the two men could erupt at any moment, Dany stepped in, her hand settling on Jon’s forearm, forcing his troubled gaze to meet hers. “I know it’s annoying, but it’s probably for the best. We don’t want a repeat of last year.”

 

“Well, are you going to slap Cersei this year?” The corner of his lips turned up, and Dany fought her own grin in return, knowing that wouldn’t help matters at all.

 

“It’s not in the plan, no.” She allowed. “But, you never know what tricks the Lannister’s may have up their sleeves. Better safe than sorry.”

 

Jon sighed, conceding the point with a shrug of his shoulders. “It just seems like overkill to me.”

 

“It always does, until you need it.” Dany smiled tightly at Jon, knowing that statement would spark his curiosity, but hoping that he would leave it be, for now at least. She rushed to add, “Just think, last year if Jorah hadn’t have been literally outside of my dressing room door, the situation with Cersei could have spiraled out of control much more easily.”

 

Jon groaned. “I know, it’s just--”

 

“She knows you can take care of yourself, Snow.” Jorah finally snapped. “Is that what you’re worried about?”

 

Dany’s brow crinkled in concern at the harsh tone, Jon’s face immediately going cherry red with embarrassment. “That’s not what I--”

 

“Jorah!” she scolded.

 

“We don’t have time to argue over this, Daenerys.” Jorah’s eyes were ice, his jaw firmly set. “You know that better than anyone. The sooner he accepts that the added protection is for the entire team, and gets over his ego trip about this being all about him, we can move on, and I can do my job - which, if you’ll recall, is to protect  _ you _ .”

 

Dany huffed out a breath. “Yes, I seem to remember what your job is, Jorah, seeing as I was the one that hired you, after all.” Her scathing look did nothing to lessen the intensity in Jorah’s taut face.

 

Jon’s shoulders slumped but he nodded. “Fine.”

 

Jorah glared at him once more before turning on his heel and walking away, leaving the two of them alone on the ice. “Sorry about him.” Dany pushed away from the wall, resuming the warm-up laps Jorah and Grey had interrupted. Jon quickly fell into stride with her, automatically reaching for her hand.

 

“He’s just trying to do his job. I get that.” Jon sighed. “I just don’t understand why we need more security-- we didn’t last year.”

 

“And look what happened.” Dany tugged on his hand, bringing him to a stop to drive her point home. “I nearly got kicked out of the US Skating Federation, and then you would have been shit out of luck on the competition circuit. Good luck trying to find a new partner in the middle of the season.”

 

“I wouldn’t have found a new partner.” Jon’s voice was quiet, his gaze fixed on the doorway Jorah had just disappeared through.

 

Dany laughed. “Aw, c’mon Snow. You were a grouch back then, but I’m sure you could have charmed some talented young lady into being your partner for the next year.” She nudged him with her shoulder teasingly, anxious to bring him back to her instead of mentally stalking Jorah and poor Grey whose introduction had just gone so awry. “You’re not  _ that  _ bad. I’d give you three out of four stars, easy.”

 

“No.” he said, drawing his eyes back to hers, the intensity of his gaze backing her up a step. “You’re my last partner, Dany.” He offered no other clarifying statements, just resumed their laps as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“He said what?!” Dei squealed on the other end of the line, the high pitched screech offending Drogon’s sensibilities so much that he jumped down from the countertop with an annoyed “meow”.

 

“I know! It was all I could do to pick my jaw up off the ice.” Dany nudged Rheagal and Viserion out of the way of their food dishes, rattling the bag of cat food, and shaking the dry pellets out into the three matching bowls. “There, dinner time for the mongrels has commenced.”

 

“Did he say anything else?”

 

“No! That’s the really weird part - he just went back to practicing. What am I supposed to do with that?” Dany opened the cabinet door to put the cat food away, stooping to gather the water bowls to clean and refill them. Dei’s silence seemed to stretch out endlessly, and Dany pulled her phone away from her ear to check the connection. “Did I lose you?”

 

“No.” Dei’s reply was contemplative. “I’m just trying to figure out how to phrase this next part.”

 

Dany rolled her eyes. She knew she had a terrible reputation for being snappish, but that normally didn’t extend to Dei. “It’s you and me. Just say it.”

 

Dei took a deep breath before she dove in. “You do nothing with it.”

 

“What do you mean?” Dany said, trying not to wilt at her best friend’s advice.

 

“I mean exactly what I just said.” Dei’s voice was exceedingly gentle, knowing that she was treading on thin ice. “You signed the contract Dany. There’s nothing you can do until he breaks it.”

 

“I am so sick of that fucking contract.” Dany growled, turning off the faucet with more force than was necessary and plunking the water dishes to the floor, ignoring the meows of protest as the water splashed over the cats.

 

Dei sighed. “We all are, but the facts remain.”

 

“I could ask for an addendum?” Dany knew she was grasping at straws, and the suggestion felt wrong the second the words left her mouth.

 

“Do you really think he’s ready for that?”

 

Dany closed her eyes, leaning her forehead against the cabinet, mentally cursing before taking a deep breath. “We both know the answer to that.”

 

“Then, you wait.” Dany could feel Dei’s shrug of sympathy through the phone. “Or… you move on.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Jorah had been crystal clear about the breakdown of duties for Nationals. He would accompany Dany and Dei at all times outside of the dressing areas, and Grey would accompany Jon, Tyrion and Davos. At the first sign of trouble, Jorah or Grey would give the code word (Direwolf-- something obscure that was sure not to drop into everyday conversation as Dany was 98% certain Jorah had made it up), and everyone present would immediately evacuate the premises in the way they had rehearsed half a dozen times in numerous scenarios. Dany had to admit that her favorite combination they had practiced was when she ended up with only Grey and Jon as her escorts, both men on either side of her, their hands around each of her elbows in case they needed to move more quickly than her shorter legs would allow.

 

The security drills seemed to finally convince Jon that, while adding to the security detail may not have been his favorite thing in the world, Dany was indeed correct-- it was better to be safe than to be sorry, and he took to them with a gusto that bordered on unnatural excitement. “Please tell me you’ve never had to do this for real.” He laughingly said during one of their drills, his arm nudging hers.

 

Dany froze, her eyes cutting to his and darting away before she could give too much away. “Well, last year…” Her voice trailed off unconvincingly as Jon’s hand came to rest on her elbow, pulling her to a stop. 

 

“Last year was more for Cersei’s protection than yours.” Jon’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. Dany shrugged, and offered nothing else, her mind suddenly swirling with images from her past-- Viserys, drunk fans who felt she owed them something, Daario when she finally told him it was over... Her gaze dropped to study her shoes. “Oh god.” Jon’s voice broke. “You have, haven’t you.”

 

Fighting off the rising panic, Dany pasted an overbright smile on her face and lifted her gaze to meet Jon’s. “Let’s just finish the drills, and then we can be done with it.”

 

“Dany.” His voice was impossibly tender, his eyes silently begging her for all the details she tried not to remember every day, to just go on living her life and following her dreams, leaving no room for the trauma of her past.

 

“I really don’t want to talk about it, Jon.” her voice was steady, and left no room for an argument. “Some experiences are best left in the past.”

 

Jon looked like he wanted to protest, but something in her eyes must have let him know what a folly fighting her on this would be, and he closed his mouth, the tension in his lips the only outward sign of his worry as he sighed and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, continuing down the hallway behind Grey.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

She had dodged a bullet on the song, but only just. Thankfully, only Dei seemed suspicious when she finally revealed that the Adele song she and Jon had improvised to was  _ Skyfall _ (instead of the telling the truth and dealing with the fallout). The skeptical look on Dei’s face was quickly lost to the general excitement of all the men clamoring about none other than 007 himself. 

 

Costuming was a breeze, and Dany had to admit to herself that secretly (ok not so secretly), one of the reasons for choosing  _ Skyfall _ was to see Jon in a tux. She was also rather pleased with her own costume, a slinky red halter dress that was cut low in all the right places, and high in all the rest. When they appeared on ice for their first dress rehearsal during the week before Nationals, Dany had her hands full of trying to keep focused on the routine, and not the fact that Jon looked good enough to eat. He had pulled his hair back (as, apparently, MI6 field agents wouldn’t be caught dead with hair that could get in the way of what needed to be done), and as he stood on the ice, posed in the classic 007 cufflink adjustment pose she felt as if she might burst with the flood of want suddenly coursing through her.

 

She took a steadying breath and stepped out onto the ice, commanding her suddenly shaky legs to obey her commands and glided to him as quickly as possible, knowing that the sooner they ran this program, the sooner she could get back to the comfort of her own hotel room, and imagine a world in which no contracts existed, and she was able to act on all of her more base impulses. She slid to a stop beside him, and he turned to face her, quiet as he took in her own costume. Dany felt her face flush as his eyes swept from the crown of her head to her skates and back up, lingering a smidge longer than necessary as a blush of his own spread across his cheeks. 

 

He cleared his throat, taking her hand in his and sweeping a kiss across her knuckles, the warm softness of his lips a whisper of promise for things to come, every inch the suave, sophisticated secret agent he was playing. “Mi’lady.” he said thickly, as if he had no control over his own voice, and Dany felt a thrill of excitement fill her.

 

She dropped a light curtsy, fighting the urge to giggle girlishly. “Don’t you look handsome, my lord?” she teased.

 

Jon’s eyes practically burned at the compliment, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow as he led her in their warm-up laps. “Had to step up my game if I want anyone to be able to take their eyes off of you while we’re on the ice.”

 

Dany ducked her head to hide the wide grin spreading across her face, and the spear of heat coursing through her veins. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

_ “Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the 2015 U.S. Figure Skating Championships live from Greensboro, North Carolina! My name is Scott Hamilton, and I’ll be your host for this evening. Joining me today are three time World Champions and Vancouver Gold Medalists in Pairs Skating Oberyn Martell and Ellaria Sand.” _

 

_ “Good evening, Scott.” Oberyn purred. “Thank you for having us both here with you this evening. We are thrilled to see what these new, young talents have to offer here today.” _

 

_ Ellaria smiled. “And some of the older competitors as well, my darling.” She offered Oberyn a wink. “Never forget, the Lannister siblings are back to defend their title.” _

 

_ “How could I forget, my love?” Oberyn settled a hand on his partners thigh. “You are so kind to remind me.” _

 

_ Scott barked out a laugh. “Well, this is going to be an interesting evening for sure, folks! The Lannisters are indeed back to defend their title, but the field is strong this year, and the defense of their title is certainly not locked down by any stretch of the imagination.” _

 

_ “So true.” Ellaria stated, entwining her delicate fingers with Oberyn’s. “The Lannister’s have been plagued by injury this year, with Jaime’s recent surgery after that unfortunate training injury to his right hand. However, let’s not forget this year’s favorites for National Champions, Frazier/Denney-- they’ve been skating absolutely beautifully in practices this week and I, for one, am eager to see what they are capable of.” _

 

_ “Mmmm.” Oberyn agreed. “Also, Snow/Storm seem to be coming on strong lately. I’ve had concerns about them in the past-- they both seem like an excellent match on paper- similarly skilled- however I’ve noticed over their debut year a lack of chemistry that has me concerned for their future in our art.” _

 

_ Ellaria patted Oberyn’s cheek. “Have you been watching the same couple I’ve been watching this week? They can barely keep their eyes off each other.” _

 

_ “Of course I have, but think back on what we have seen from them in the past with other partners. Are you saying that they are capable of showing more chemistry than Jon Snow and Ygritte Wilde? Hell, even Daenerys had an animalist chemistry with Drogo that worked very well for them before they were divorced.” _

 

_ Scott laughed again nervously. ‘Well, while it may be true that in the past they were having some difficulty expressing feeling on the ice, I don’t think that’s an issue any longer.” _

 

_ “So true.” Ellaria continued. “These things take time, my love. We’ll just have to wait and see.” _

 

~*~*~*~*~*~ 

 

“All right-- repeat it back.”

 

Dany sighed and shot an exasperated look at Jorah through the rear-view mirror before turning to Jon beside her and Dei perched in the middle of the backseat of the one of the suburbans Jorah and Grey had rented to transport the team from the hotel to the venue and back for the competition. Jon rolled his eyes, but nodded encouragingly. “I stay two steps behind you at all times, and always on your left unless you direct me otherwise. If I see Cersei or Jaime, I am not to engage, not even to say hello. Dei is to remain with me at all times in places you are not allowed to be-- such as bathrooms, dressing rooms, etc.”

 

“Good, and you?” Jorah’s gaze shifted to Jon who straightened his spine under the older man’s scrutiny.

 

“I stay with either you or Grey at all times. If anything happens to either of you, my priority is to get the ladies safely out of the building.”

 

“Dei?”

 

Dei sighed. “I stay with Dany at all times. First sign of any sabotage, or even anything that feels wrong, even if I don’t know why, I let you know.”

 

“What’s the code?”

 

“Direwolf.” All three in the backseat dutifully chimed in. 

 

“Great.” Jorah said, a hint of a smile finally cracking through his seriousness. “Now, let’s go win a National championship.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

_ “Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome back to our live coverage of the U.S. Figure Skating Championships-- here’s where we stand after yesterday’s Short Program. Favorites Frazier/Denney hold first place after a delightful skate, followed closely by none other than Snow/Storm. To say they were a crowd favorite yesterday is an understatement, to be sure.” _

 

_ “I couldn’t agree with you more, Scott.” Ellaria smiled, her brown eyes flickering with a queer heat. “While Frazier/Denney have come out on top with a flawlessly technical program, they certainly didn’t capture the hearts of the crowd gathered. That award should be laid directly at the feet of none other than Dany Storm and Jon Snow.” _

 

_ Oberyn nodded. “I have to admit, I was shocked. They have certainly come a long way in their short time together as partners, and yesterday I was surprised. Their music selection was certainly popular.” _

 

_ “I’ve noticed that their Short Programs tend to pay homage to the home state where their competitions take place. This year’s selection was the ever popular “Wagon Wheel” by Old Crow Medicine Show for our lovely hosts, the great state of North Carolina.” Scott affirmed. _

 

_ “Of course, music is the gateway to the audience’s hearts, but their performance was so much more than just the music.” Ellaria said. “The way they moved with each other, the care in which the held each other-- these are the subliminal things that audiences respond to without even knowing why. Having seen what they have in store for this evening’s Free Skate, I’m sure that they will bring the house down.” _

 

_ “We shall certainly see, my love.” Oberyn tried to stifle a laugh unsuccessfully as he moved on to his next point. “The defending champions, Lannister/Lannister, had a disastrous skate, and are now currently in 6th place. It’s rumored that Jaime Lannister may actually be unable to compete today due to exasperating his hand injury, but that report is unconfirmed at the moment.” _

 

_ “Lot’s happening here tonight, folks - stay tuned!” _

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Dany found Jon huddled against the wall of his dressing room. She’d been concerned since they had finished their Short Program the day before, wondering if they were going to have a repeat of last year’s unfortunate events, but he had seemed steady and confident. Davos opened the door for her and nodded for her to go inside, leaving the door ajar with Jorah and Grey immediately flanking the door on either side.

 

His hands were clasped tightly together, trying desperately to hide the trembling. Her heart ached for him. She didn’t know if it was nerves, fear, regret, or something deeper and intimately tied to Ygritte in a way that she would never be able to break through, but she did know that she couldn’t let him suffer on his own. She stepped next to him and slid down the wall until she was seated, her hips and legs pressed against him solidly, letting him know that she was here, and he could lean on her if he wanted to. She reached for his hands, gently working his fingers apart, and intertwining her own between his. 

 

She knew better than to try to get him to talk, instead she sat with him quietly, her head resting against the wall behind her as she rubbed her hands across his, bringing warmth to the cold fingers. He didn’t open his eyes, but suddenly the limp hold on her hand tightened, his fingers desperately gripping hers as if he were afraid if he let go he would lose her forever too. Dany sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder, taking deep, slow breaths, knowing that eventually biology would take over and his breathing would naturally sync with hers. She couldn’t imagine what he was going through internally, but she wouldn’t wish this level of turmoil on anyone, not even Cersei.

 

His head fell on top of her own, his inhales lengthening and she squeezed his hand again. “It’s going to be ok, Jon.” she said softly, blinking back sudden tears, knowing that if she ruined her makeup now there would be no time to fix it before going back out on the ice. “I’m here. We can do this, together. I’ve got you.”

 

He stilled with her whispered words, some of the tension draining from him as he slumped further against the wall and against her. He nodded and Dany looked up as she felt a shadow fall across her. Tyrion stood in the doorway, a pained expression on his face. Dany nudged Jon and he looked up, quickly sitting back up against the wall. She tried not to feel upset about the loss of the comforting weight of his head on hers, and firmly pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind, her focus now solely on the skate before them.

 

“It’s time.” Tyrion said, beckoning for them to follow him. 

 

Dany stood and turned to Jon, pulling him to his feet as he refused to release her hand. She searched his face for lingering signs of turmoil, and instead found him staring at her with something akin to wonder in her eyes. She stared back at him, perplexed, but squeezed his hand in encouragement once more. “You ok?”

 

Jon didn’t answer, but instead pulled her to him, his arms wrapping around her as he buried his face in her hair again, taking a deep breath almost as if he was trying to memorize the scent and shape of her. Dany’s knees went to jelly and she clung to him to keep from falling, her cheek pressed against the lapels of his tux, her eyes squeezed shut as her heart clenched in her chest.

 

She was the first to pull away, everything in her torn between the want to comfort him, to take him into her arms and protect him from the hurts of the world, and then the responsibility to the rest of the team, how far they had come, and how she owed to each of them to keep herself from falling to pieces. He kept his grip on her hand, and she gave him what she hoped was a steady smile as she pulled him toward the rink.

 

Tyrion was waiting for them at the wall, his shrewd gaze taking them in as they walked towards him, dutifully following Jorah with Grey, Davos, and Dei bringing up the rear. “Any last words of advice?” Dany asked as they stopped next to him to take off their skate guards and hand them to Dei, Jon slowly and deliberately doing the same with Davos.

 

“You’ve both come a long way in the past few months.” Tyrion said, his gaze glassy in the harsh overhead lighting of the arena. “The program is good, but it still needs a little kick.”

 

Jon and Dany nodded, and Tyrion sighed, motioning for Dany to join him at the wall, and for Jon to stay a few paces back. Dany looked at Tyrion expectantly before dropping down on one knee beside him. She knew he normally hated that, but something in his eyes told him that this note was for her, and her alone. Tyrion’s gaze never left Jon, studying him like a specimen he was about to dissect, but his soft words cut straight to the heart of Dany. “Do you love him?”

 

Dany could feel every muscle in her face tighten at the same time, and she fought the urge to whip her head around to see if Jon had overheard Tyrion’s question. Her heart was thundering in her chest, and she sputtered, trying to come up with something, anything to say. “I--”

 

Tyrion held up a hand, silencing her before she could go on. “Secrets are powerful things, Daenerys.” he said, his mismatched eyes boring into her own. “You don’t have to _ tell _ them, but it does help to  _ show _ them… all of them.” he waved a hand to the crowd.

 

Dany bristled. “Are you suggesting that I--”

 

“I’m suggesting that you play your secret, Dany. Show him in everything but words how you feel. Use it. If you can’t deny it, and you can’t stop it, or hide from it, then  _ use _ it. Wear your love like armor, that way it can never hurt you.”

 

Dany swallowed, glancing over her shoulder at Jon, now seemingly stable, his breathing even as he waited for her to return and for them to be officially announced. “Or, you can let it destroy you from the inside out.” Tyrion continued. “But it’s time to choose.”

 

She didn’t have time to think, or to answer. Their names were announced, and she pasted a smile on her face, taking Jon’s hand once more as the stepped out onto the rink. As they took a lap to settle, her mind was rattling around inside her skull, Tyrion’s words having shaken her to her core.  _ Love _ . That was something she had yet to consider. Attraction, sure-- want, need, absolutely-- but love? Love was something she had been sure she would never experience in her life again, especially given her past. She shook her head, as if trying to physically shake the thoughts from her head, and turned to Jon, his dark eyes drinking her in. 

 

“You ok?” he whispered. 

 

It was her turn not to answer, afraid she would drown in the concern pouring from his gaze. Instead, she reached out a trembling hand to straighten his bow tie. Jon tipped her face up to his, a slight smile stretching across his usually somber face. 

 

“Whatever Tyrion said to you-- it doesn’t matter. It’s just you and me out here. I’ve got you.” His hands came to rest on her own, and for the first time, Dany realized how well and truly fucked she was. She nodded, her heart swelling as she spun around to take her opening pose, her back to Jon’s.

 

The music started - the blare of the horns section igniting her as she circled and spun in Jon’s arms. Dei’s choreography called for a cat and mouse quality, all thwarted longing and the thrill of the chase. She truly didn’t know how she felt about Jon, whether it was love or not, but Tyrion had one thing right. Whatever it was she was feeling, she could use, and together, it would propel them upwards and onwards. She fell head over heels into her character, suddenly free of all of Dany’s worries and concerns, and focused completely on what this Bond Girl wanted-- Bond himself.

 

She threw herself with abandon into the program, each touch sensual and demanding, her hands no longer holding his, but instead clawing and clamoring, equal parts sensual and ferocious. He responded immediately, his eyes alight with barely contained desire that Dany was sure was mirrored in her own eyes. As they stalked across the ice, she could feel the heat of the entire arena building, the spark inside of her igniting and blazing to an unquenchable wall of fire with an ease that would have alarmed her if Jon was not beside her, equally engulfed in the flame of passion and feeling.

 

Their jumps were perfect, their throws never better, harnessing the adrenaline of the moment in a stunning fashion, the height she reached pulling gasps from the crowd, and her sure-footed landing causing an eruption of applause. She lost herself completely in the feeling of his arms, Jon’s hands traveling over her roughly as he pulled her to him for their lifts and spins, the pulsing throbs of the music driving them closer and closer to the edge. Their eyes never left each other during the intricate step sequence, their gazes continually drawn to each other like magnets, unable to look anywhere else but the blazing, towering inferno in each other’s eyes.

 

As Jon lifted her out of their final death spiral, Dany slowly came back to herself, softening for the final moments, reaching up to caress his face as he drew her into his embrace before lowering her to the ice in a slow dip, her arms wrapped around his neck, and her face buried in his throat.

 

There was silence in the arena as the last notes of Adele’s croons faded away, and Dany kept her face buried in the side of Jon’s neck afraid to be the first to break the spell that had settled over her. Jon’s arms trembled, and she tightened her own around his neck, knowing that he must be exhausted after such a program, but not wanting to pull away now or ever, her mind a swirling mess of mixed emotions and built up feeling and frustration.

 

Then, the first smatterings of applause started, building and building until the entire arena seemed to shake, and one would have been right to assume that an NHL game was occuring instead of figure skating. Jon lifted her off the ice, his arms wrapped around her in a tight hug as he spun her around, his delighted laugh the only thing she could hear over the deafening applause. He set her on her feet, and pushed away slightly to look at her, the amazed wonder back in his eyes, only this time darker, the edges of the look tinged with something primal that Dany found herself responding to immediately. She bit her lip to keep herself from jumping him, and instead settled for throwing her arms around his neck again.

 

Jon’s hand came to settle against the back of her head, holding her as closely as he could, as if he were afraid to let her go, and she felt the press of his lips against her cheek. “That was amazing.” he whispered, and finally set her down so they could take their bows.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

_ “I’m speechless right now! I’m not quite sure what we just watched.” Scott’s normally high pitched tenor squeaked in his excitement. _

 

_ Oberyn cleared his throat, adjusting in his seat as if suddenly very uncomfortable. “That… that was sexy…” he said, his voice dark with promise as he stared at Ellaria who was fanning herself. _

 

_ “That was more than just sex.” she said, reaching for her lover’s hand. “That was longing, and chemistry, and all of the other things that Snow/Storm has been lacking up until now.” she paused for a moment, taking in the thunderous applause still rolling over them as they awaited the judges scores. “Unless I’m mistaken--” _

 

_ “And you never are.” Oberyn cut in, bringing Ellaria’s hand to his lips for a sensuous kiss. _

 

_ “I think these two will be our next National Champions.” _

 

_ Scott nodded enthusiastically. “Technically flawless, and the artistry- gah! I just can’t get over it! So good!” A pause, and then, “And here are the scores coming up now-- Snow/Storm needs a score of 132.76 in order to take over the lead from Frazier/Denney, and…” _

 

_ “They’ve done it!” Oberyn crowed. “Another personal best for Snow/Storm with a Free Skate score of 137.92! We have our newest National Champions!” _

 

_ “All hail the Dragon Queen, and her King of Winter!” _

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

This is the end  
Hold your breath and count to ten  
Feel the earth move and then  
Hear my heart burst again

For this is the end  
I’ve drowned and dreamt this moment  
So overdue I owe them  
Swept away, I’m stolen

Let the sky fall  
When it crumbles  
We will stand tall  
Face it all together

Let the sky fall  
When it crumbles  
We will stand tall  
Face it all together  
At skyfall  
At skyfall

Skyfall is where we start  
A thousand miles and poles apart  
Where worlds collide and days are dark  
You may have my number, you can take my name  
But you’ll never have my heart

Let the sky fall  
When it crumbles  
We will stand tall  
Face it all together

Let the sky fall  
When it crumbles  
We will stand tall  
Face it all together  
At skyfall

Where you go I go  
What you see I see  
I know…

_ Skyfall  _ by Adele

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, that was a long one! Consider it a special Mother's Day gift to you all!
> 
> As always, Adele seems to be my prime musical source of inspiration for this fic, and I have to say when I imagined Jon and Dany as 007 and Severine from Skyfall I knew I had to follow that thread to the end. I hope it was as hot in all of your imaginations as it was in mine. <3
> 
> Also, I'm considering moving updates to Mondays-- it would give me a bit more time on the weekends to get everything just right. Any thoughts?
> 
> As always, thanks for joining me in this adventure. I hope you're all having fun!


	12. Jon - Summer 2016

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He could still remember her shy smile at the gift, her cheeks pink with delight, the un-asked question in her eyes. He should have told her then. He should have told her every day in between. And yet….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *tissue alert*

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“Jon! Jon! Jon! Any word on--”

 

“Mr. Snow, would you care to make a comment on--”

 

“How are you holding up?”

 

“Have the doctors given a prognosis--”

 

“What do you have to say for yourse--”

 

It was utter cacophony. Reporters from all over the country were still swarming the parking lot of Horn Hill General, and any time any one of their team pulled into the parking lots, there they were-- circling like vultures, anxiously awaiting any scrap of information that anyone would offer them.

 

In the eight months since the accident, his life had been a flurry of travel, hospitals, doctors, reporters, and stress. Hell, getting Dany transferred to a hospital close to home had been a three month ordeal in and of itself. From the second they had set foot on American soil again, the American media with its 24 hour news cycles and never ending narrative news sagas were bound and determined to mine every gory detail of the accident and the lives it had irreversibly effected.

 

“No comment.” Jon firmly closed the door of his truck with his hip, struggling with the large cardboard box he carried in the heat of the summer sun, and strode to the door, knowing that the hospital would not allow the reporters inside.

 

All of the PR consultants that Tyrion had hired said the same thing. “They’ll lose interest once the excitement settles down. Right now, you’re just good TV.” Just the thought of that callous statement raised Jon’s hackles anew. To reduce what Dany had been through to simply “good ratings” infuriated him in a way that sometimes frightened him-- the urge to reach out and squeeze the shit out of those that would diminish her roaring to life in his blood.

 

Their little team had pulled together admirably in the wake of the crisis. From the moment Jon had pulled her limp body up from the ice, the only words pouring from his lips “Direwolf,” over and over again, each of them had leaped into action. Jorah and Grey handled all travel arrangements and security concerns, while Tyrion dealt exclusively with the many doctors and international insurance procedures, Davos managing all professional concerns and media, with Dei and Jon taking on Dany’s personal welfare and management of her effects and estate for themselves.

 

The doctors in Spain had done the best that they could do, but the numerous transfers and travels to get Dany back to the United States had taken a toll, and the medically induced coma she had entered to keep the swelling in her brain to a manageable level had somehow slipped into something more permanent. No one seemed to know why, and no matter how much research Jon and Dei took on, the science of the brain remained elusive. There was still so much that the medical community did not know. Mass Gen had not known what to do other than “keep her comfortable” and that’s when Jon and Dei had decided to branch out, desperate to find some treatment, or some doctor willing to take a more calculated risk in order to wake Dany up again.

 

Enter Dr. Sam Tarly of Horn Hill General. Relatively young and extremely bookish, Jon had been hesitant to meet with him, but after one phone call, Dei had been adamant about meeting him in person-- for Jon to hear the resolve in his voice and the light in his eyes as he spoke about a number of experimental treatments that he would be willing to try for Dany’s sake. In his mind, she was athletic, strong, young, and a prime candidate to not only survive, but thrive again one day.

 

Jon had once made the mistake of asking Dr. Tarly where he had come up with these new theories and medical studies and Tarly had merely smiled sheepishly and said “Oh no, not new. More like ancient remedies that I’m modernizing for a new era of medical science.” Jon decided then and there that he didn’t need to know more detail than that.

 

Thus had begun the last transfer. Thankfully, the logistics of moving Dany from Mass Gen to Horn Hill General proved to be much less complex than trans-Atlantic medicinal procedures, and within a matter of weeks, Dany was settled into her new home, back in Winterfell after eight long months of turmoil. Jon paused at the Nurses Station, trying to get his bearings. After a while all hospitals started to look alike, and Horn Hill was no exception.

 

Thankfully, Gilly was on duty and pointed him the right direction, her shy smile and hesitant manner misleading. That woman could command an entire room if needed during an emergency, and that was something Jon wished to never see again. He nodded gratefully and followed what he was sure would soon be a well worn path to Room 333.

 

He paused at the doorway, shifting the large box to his hip and taking a moment to steady himself. It was always a struggle, seeing her. He so desperately wanted for her to be awake, to see the sparkle of mischief in her eyes, to hear the teasing nature of her sharp tongue. Instead, he was greeted as always with the monotonous beeping of the machines, the constant whirring, and instead of her lavender shampoo, and overwhelming scent of antiseptic ointments. At least now that the majority of the surgeries were completed, her hair was starting to grow back. Nothing like the long white-blonde locks he loved, but he cherished the fuzzy tufts that foretold of healing like a robin heralded springtime.

 

He shoved open the door with his foot, and Dei scrambled up from where she had been seated next to Dany. She popped a bookmark into the worn copy of _Anne of Green Gables_ , yet another story about an young woman of oddly colored hair, struggling to find a family to call her own, and her rightful place in this world.

 

“Oh good! I didn’t know if you would have time to stop by the apartment today.” Dei reached for the box, settling it on the nearby table, and rummaging through the contents. “Look, Dany! Jon brought some of your favorites!”

 

There was an odd pause that not even eight months of silence could ease, and Jon cleared his throat in the awkwardness that followed. “Yeah. I needed to feed the cats, so it all worked out. Tyrion took her laptop to the Apple store to see if they can override the passwords.”

 

Dei nodded. “Did he take the Power of Attorney? I doubt they’ll just unlock it for him.”

 

Jon shrugged. “I assume so. He knows better than we do the amount of paperwork that goes into this type of thing.” He gestured helplessly to Dany’s still form, the only movement the steady rise and fall of her chest in perfect timing with the whirring of the ventilator. He crossed to her, studying her pale face for a moment, the guilt piling in his chest and threatening to crush him before he gathered his resolve and leaned close to press a quick kiss to her forehead. “Morning, Dany.”

 

Dei continued pulling items out of the box-- Dany’s favorite blanket, an odd thing of golden yellow with a stuffed animal lion’s head and paws attached to it, pictures of her beloved cats, phone charger, a few other books, as many pairs of warm, fuzzy socks as Jon could find (or was comfortable searching for given that on his first try he had plunged his hand into her top drawer without looking and had come up with a fistful of intricately lacy underwear instead… His face still burned at the thought of it, and of her in them, even though that was a sight he had only ever seen in the depths of his own imagination…), and finally the blue blown-glass rose he had given her over a year ago after their Nationals win.

 

He could still remember her shy smile at the gift, her cheeks pink with delight, the un-asked question in her eyes. He should have told her then. He should have told her every day in between. And yet….

 

“Jon?” Dei’s voice snapped him out of his reverie.

 

He jerked his face back to hers. “Sorry, I was…”

 

Dei’s face softened as a look of understanding passed over her features. “How are the cats?”

 

Jon grimaced before he could help himself. The mongrels had been feisty today. “They’re still adjusting. After months of rotating visitors, I think they’re glad to see people they recognize consistently.” A deep breath. “They call for her though.”

 

He didn’t expect the pang of anguish that thrummed through his heart at such a statement, but there it was, nonetheless. He hadn’t been quite sure what they were doing at first-- Drogon had greeted him at the door like normal, the other two hiding until Drogon gave the all clear. They had affectionately rubbed up against his legs, eager for human contact as he filled up their food and water bowls and discretely took care of the litter. And then, once the business of survival had concluded, Drogon had returned to the front door and sat in front of it expectantly, a keening meow coming from the depths of his little kitty soul that had Jon simultaneously checking to see if he was hurt and battling back the tears that had sprung to his eyes.

 

Rheagal and Viserion had immediately taken up the call, joining their largest brother in his vigil. Only Rheagal had broken off, following him brokenly through the empty apartment as he had gathered the items Dei had requested to make a comfortable nest for Dany. The entire team had agreed to never refer to the various hospitals at home. That was a bridge too far, and they knew that Dany was counting on them to continue to be the pillars of strength she needed.

 

He reached over and took the framed picture of Dany’s kittens from Dei and set it on the bedside table, sure to have it facing her so that she would be able to see them if and when she opened her eyes. It would do her good to see them, in any way that she could.

 

Dei nodded. “My mom’s cats did that too, after…” Her voice trailed off as her face crumbled, her normally delicately smooth features haggard and worn with the months and grief. Jon swiftly crossed the small room and gathered Dei into a firm hug.

 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean--” His own throat tightened, threatening to close off with his own subdued sorrow.

 

“No, it’s ok.” Dei sniffed. “Just wasn’t expecting to… You know.” she gestured helplessly into the empty air.

 

Jon sighed, Dei’s curls shivering under his breath as he pulled away and turned back to Dany. “Yeah… I know.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I caught the crud that's been rampaging the Northeast, and have been sick all week. Sorry this is so short! Again, it's only about half of what I intended, so next week will feature Jon again (With Dany taking up the last 4 updates, I doubt anyone will complain too much, lol), but didn't want to leave anyone hanging.
> 
> Also-- *hands out tissues like they're going out of style* This is getting harder and harder to write, y'all. Please don't be shy about sending love and warm thoughts. <3
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


	13. Jon - December 2016

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eyes the color of a storm-tossed sea searched his own, her endless questions buried inside of them. For an eternity he had tortured himself, wondering what she was working up the courage to say or ask, but something in her eyes shuttered at the last moment. Instead of speaking, she reached up gently to cup his cheeks in both of her hands...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all. I love this chapter and I am really excited to share it with you! I think it’s my favorite so far! <3
> 
> I know we normally work backwards in time with Jon, but as this chapter was meant to be attached to last week's, we are still moving forward in time (so chronologically, this chapter does, indeed, happen after the last Jon chapter).

~*~*~*~*~*~ 

 

He was trapped.

 

Jon could feel the familiar confines of the dream dropping down upon him. He knew he should wake up, force himself back to consciousness, but… But if he did, he’d miss out on what came next. The sight and sound of her that he missed with an acuteness bordering on desperation. The shifting color of her eyes, the quirk of her lips as she smiled up at him, the feel of her small, warm hand slipping into his own. He gripped it securely, determined this time to not let go-- to change the course of what was into what should have been.

 

It was as simple as this, really. She belonged with him. Awake and thriving, instead of the shell she had become through no fault of her own.

 

“Jon.” Her lilting voice was teasing. “You’re far away.”

 

He felt the storm inside him building, knowing that he should take her in his arms now, and never let her go. She deserved so much more than what was going to happen, the inevitable. He tugged on her hand, willing her to follow him away from the ice, away from the danger, but she grinned up at him-- her smile wide, and for a moment he was lost in the shine of it. Instead of allowing him to pull her away, she was drawing him into herself, further out onto the ice.

 

All that existed was her-- the smell of lavender, the press of her lithe body against his own. He struggled to keep his concentration on his goal, to bring her safely from the rink, but she was making it difficult. The feel of her heartbeat against his chest was driving him to distraction, her dexterous fingers sliding up his arm lighting a trail of flame that would ignite his very soul. She lightly traced the scar above his right eye, his breath catching in his throat at the exquisite gentleness of the gesture.

 

Eyes the color of a storm-tossed sea searched his own, her endless questions buried inside of them. For an eternity he had tortured himself, wondering what she was working up the courage to say or ask, but something in her eyes shuttered at the last moment. Instead of speaking, she reached up gently to cup his cheeks in both of her hands, her lips softly caressing his own in a whisper of a kiss, so light that for months Jon would wonder if she had really kissed him, or if he had imagined it-- a waking dream turned nightmare that would haunt him until the end of his days.

 

But no, it was real. Even in this murky netherworld, he could still feel the softness of her lips, the way even the briefest touch of them upon his own sent a searing warmth down to his toes. Her hands framing his face were feather light, sliding along his cheeks like silk. He pulled back as he had done in life, his eyes seeking out her own, searching for the why of it all. Why here, why now, why had it taken them both so damn long-- why him? She deserved so much more than the broken, empty husk he had become.

 

No answers came. Just a half heard whisper as she released him and turned away. “For luck.”

 

His heart was hammering in his chest, knowing what was coming, helpless to stop the relentless passage of time, but he had to try. This time, he would do as he had wanted to, instead of what he had done.

 

“Dany.” he said, gripping her hand as hard as he could, knowing that any amount of pain he might cause her in this moment would save her from the monumental agony that was coming. Ignoring her wince, he crushed her to him, his other hand cupping the back of her head, his fingers threading through the intricate braids that she and Dei had no doubt spent hours constructing. He rained kisses down upon her face, nothing like her gentle caress, but demanding, needy things designed to distract her-- to keep her with him, and away from the despair hunting them both.

 

She responded immediately, her free hand working its way up his chest, her nails clawing at him, thwarted longing driving them together and carrying them onwards, upwards into glory. Her hungry mouth found his again, and he swept his tongue past her lips, swallowing her moan. His fingers entwined with hers as he wrapped his arm around her waist without letting go of her hand. Her other hand abandoned his chest, her free arm wrapping around his neck to draw him closer to her.

 

He picked her up, needing to feel the length of her body along his own, the way she fit perfectly ringing through his mind as their tongues battled for dominance. The smell of her intoxicated him, the softness of her body enthralling him as his mind swirled with the possibilities of the next million years. This time, everything would work out perfectly. This time, he would give into his desires instead of shoving them to the side for the sake of honor. This time, she would be his, and he would be hers, until the end of their days. He would swear it. He would swear to all of the gods, upon whatever altar they demanded.

 

This time--

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Jon woke with a gasp, the steady beeping of the machines and her still form his only company. His heart was thundering in his chest, his suddenly empty hands clenching involuntarily. A brief moment of panic overtook him, the fear that his dream may have been a premonition instead of just a normal recurring dream that always ended with her hand being cruelly ripped from his own, and the falling. Always the falling… Jon lurched to his feet-- the book he been reading to her before he nodded off fell to the floor with a dull thud as Jon ran his hands down her arms, circling her wrists to find a pulse. He held his breath, until -- there! The steady pulse of her heartbeat thumped against his fingers, and he dropped back into his chair, his head slumped on top of her hands, his fingers locked in a death grip around her delicate wrist.

 

The rest of his brain caught up with him, the last vestiges of sleep falling from him as the rest of his senses rushed to assure him that everything was well. The smell of evergreen from the tiny Christmas tree Dei had brought in and strung with lights and cheerful ornaments combating the antiseptic smell, the sound of the ventilator, the sight of Dany’s chest rising and falling steadily. He longed to feel the thread of her hand through his hair, the sound of her laugh at his unnecessary panic, but alas-- that was for the movies, and this was real life. No dramatic revelations and Christmas miracles to come.

 

Just the living with the rising guilt and the sweeping bouts of depression that threatened to paralyze him once more. Sometimes he felt as if what was left of his sanity was unthreading before his eyes, the strands that he had meticulously struggled to bind together after Ygritte’s death frayed at the edges and creeping ever closer to breaking. Shoving back his chair from Dany’s bedside, he stood, moving to pace the room helplessly, unable to stay still as the adrenaline coursed through him, his emotions broiling, tumbling from grief, to guilt, to rage.

 

He wasn’t sure how much longer he could do this, how much longer he could hang on before the final thread snapped and he was lost to himself once more, unmoored and adrift. He had already traveled the path of “If only” with Ygritte, and he knew that if he let himself open the door to that well of grief again he would drown beneath the waves just as sure as if he had thrown himself into the depths of the sea with no life vest.

 

It had been an accident. Nothing more, nothing less-- he knew that. In the days since, reeling from the shock of it all, Jon had entertained all sorts of wild notions-- everything from Lannister sabotage to more nefarious plots involving Drogo or Daario hellbent on having Dany back in their lives-- or if that couldn’t happen, ensuring that no one would be able to share in her joy ever again. But the facts remained; even something as simple as a trip and fall could turn deadly in their sport.

 

But he couldn’t think about that right now. He couldn’t dwell on what could have been-- if the ice had just been smoother, if they had been anywhere else in the line-up, if his blade edge had not caught in a deep groove, if he had been able to keep his feet under him instead of tumbling to the ice, if they had not attempted a new lift, if, if if…

 

He huffed out a breath, standing at the foot of her bed, silently taking in her pale features, her silver-white hair now brushing her high cheekbones. Dr. Tarly had repeatedly assured them that all of the surgeries she had undergone to repair the subdural hematoma were considered successes in the eyes of the medical community. The swelling in her brain had receded. Her vitals had returned to normal, and were considered strong for her condition. All motor functions responded well to various stimuli. She just, for reasons that no one could explain, refused to wake up.

 

Dr. Tarly had been trying non-conventional methods of waking Dany up for months, from attempting to reverse the effects with sleeping pills, to, even once, placing an alarm clock under her pillow and shouting at her to wake up. He had sheepishly told them about it afterwards, saying that it was something no one had tried yet, and he just needed to rule it out to be sure. “Who knows?” he had joked. “Maybe she’s just waiting on true love’s kiss.”

 

Everyone had turned to Jon expectantly and he had blushed to the roots of his hair, stuttering that Dany was not some damsel in distress waiting to be rescued. “She does the rescuing. Not the other way around.” He had said, shoving his hands deep into his pockets, and storming from the room before anyone could tease him further.

 

He still found it astonishing how often he thought about that conversation. How he sometimes found his gaze focused on her lips, especially when Dei and the nursing staff often applied chapstick to keep them soft and supple, something he would not have thought of on his own in a million years. And yet… It lingered.

 

The door to Dany’s room banged open, and Jon tried his best not to jump as Tyrion strode into the room as fast as his short legs would allow.

 

“Ah. There you are. I’ve been looking for you.” He said to Jon, taking a seat in the chair that Jon had just vacated, reaching for Dany’s hand and pressing a surprisingly gentle kiss to the back of her hand. “Your Grace.” he teased, and Jon, knowing how much Dany hated that nickname unconsciously braced himself for her lambast in response.

 

The moment of emptiness clawed at his chest and he swallowed it down as best he could. “Well. You found me.”

 

Tyrion’s normal good humor seemed to be a bit thin on the ground today, his expression darkening as he took in Dany’s still face, Jon’s tense posture, and the ringing silence in the room, save for the insipid Christmas music piped into all of the rooms. “Indeed. We need to have a little chat.”

 

Jon fought the urge to roll his eyes. “About what?”    

 

Tyrion dragged his gaze from Dany’s face to his own. “I have a proposition for you.”

 

“A proposition?” Jon bristled, not exactly sure why, but knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that he wouldn’t like what Tyrion had to say next.

 

“Do you remember your first practice with her?” Tyrion nodded to Dany, and Jon had to swallow the sudden lump in his throat. Of course he remembered their first practice. How she had been stretching when he had come into the weight room for warm-ups, the way she was leaning forward over her spread eagle legs, exposing her generous cleavage, the subsequent tightening of his pants as he froze in the doorway, uneven to say hello to her as she had bounded to her feet in surprise. Her braid fell over her shoulder as she bit back her immediate frustration and put her earbuds back in, ignoring him completely for the rest of the warm-up, mistaking his silence for rudeness. How Davos had teased him all that week about catching him staring at her ‘good heart’ when he had asked what Jon thought of his new partner.

 

Their first moments on the ice, and his immediate panic and confusion over his new partner. How Dany had reached for his hand automatically and he had pulled away, unable to explain the flashes of Ygritte in his mind. He was incapable of voicing the sense of betrayal he felt at being here, skating with Dany, and how he was dishonoring himself and the memory of Ygritte, even though he knew she would have wanted him to continue doing what he loved. 

 

He smiled softly, remembering how she kept falling to the ice every time she attempted a double loop, one of the simpler jumps in her repertoire. How her eyes blazed when he offered her his advice, how he had wanted to reach down and help her up everytime she fell, but he just…  _ couldn’t _ no matter how much he tried to force himself to.

 

How beautiful she looked even then, her anger crystallizing her, making everything around her dull by comparison.

 

“Aye. I remember.” he ground out. How much time he had wasted in keeping his distance needlessly, insisting they keep to that stupid fucking contract he had naively thought would protect her.

 

Tyrion studied him for a moment, his gaze traveling up and down Jon’s tense form. “Do you remember the conversation we had after Dany snapped at you?”

 

Jon snorted. “Snapped at me, eh? I think I still bear the singe marks of her dragon-fire from that interaction.”

 

Tyrion chucked. “As well you should.” He looked to his young charge fondly. “It was one of her more productive flares, I’ll give her that one.”

 

Jon nodded, suddenly back in that day. The sight of her letting loose upon him was one to behold. He had tried to describe it to Davos afterward, but even then his words had fallen short. He was not a man of words, of poetry, and she… she had been… The fire that drove her seemed to leap from her silken lips, searing him to the ice, rendering him unable to move away until Tyrion had inserted himself between them, assigning laps to Dany and calling Jon to the wall for a chat.

 

“What the hell are you doing out there?” Ah. Straight to the point-- Jon could appreciate that.

 

“What does it look like?” He replied sullenly. He wasn’t in the mood to talk after the dressing down he had just received. His ears were still ringing with the chiding remarks.

 

_ I seem to remember asking you to be my partner, not my coach… --why I thought that maybe, today you would show up as a human instead of this shell of a person… _

 

“It looks like your doing the best that you can to end this partnership before it even begins.”

 

Jon felt his ears flame in response. He might not have been completely convinced that this was going to work out in the long run, but he wasn’t actively trying to destroy them before they could even begin… Was he? Surely not. Ever since he was a small child, he had lived to be out on the ice. His uncle had signed him up for a junior hockey league as soon as he could skate, and while Jon had excelled at the sport, even then his heart had longed for something softer, less violent.

 

The first time he had ever gone to a figure skating program, he had been 7 years old. Sansa had begged for weeks to be allowed to go to see Disney on Ice, or some other such bullshit. It had been a birthday surprise for her, and Jon was also surprised when he was included in the outing. Normally, his aunt kept the birthdays separate to allow each sibling/cousin to feel as if it were their own special day, but for this one instance, the entire family was included as they needed to reach 20 people for a group discount.

 

Jon would never forget the thrill of realizing that this sport was more than just dance and artistry. It was athleticism, power. The men amazed him, and even by then he had known enough about ice skating to know that what he was seeing was pure skill. He had fallen in love with it then, and had never looked back.

 

He competed solo for a few years, making a name for himself in the Juniors when Davos had found him, and began to nurture and mentor him. Then, he had met Ygritte. She was kissed by fire; Dany was fire’s kiss. He liked to think that they would have adored each other if the stars had aligned.

 

He had forced his concentration back to Tyrion then, unwilling to lose himself in the thoughts of Ygritte. “I’m not trying to get out of this partnership.”

 

“Oh no?” Tyrion had cocked his head to the side. “Then what are you trying to do? Because it’s not pairs skating. I know I said we’d work up to everything to get you both comfortable with each other, but Jon. If you don’t truly want to be here, then we shouldn’t be here.”

 

Jon winced as a rush of cold air his the back of his neck, the draft from Dany’s lap chilling him in tandem with Tyrion’s words. “I…” What did he want? He loved this sport more than he could say. In the days since he had lost Ygritte he had often gone back out onto the ice, the pond on the family acreage still frozen over. He would work himself to the bone, often running from his memories, and in turn, chasing that which he could no longer have.

 

It was time to return. He had know that since the first moment he had seen Dany through the peephole of his door. He had known the moment that he had handed her a mug of tea, their fingers brushing ever so slightly. He had known the moment she had mentioned breaking the curse. Together. It was time. And Dany was his best option for doing so.

 

“I do want to be here. I promise.”

 

Tyrion had studied him, searching his eyes for some hidden truth in the depths of them, and Jon had tried not to look away, to remain open lest Tyrion wrench this potential away from him, away from  _ them,  _ and he knew that he couldn’t allow it.

 

At last Tyrion nodded. “She’s not an easy woman to understand Jon. It will take her time to truly open to you. Longer than you would like, I expect. But, she’s worth it.”

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Jon could see her approaching on another lap. A vision in charcoal grey, with her maroon sweater falling off of one pale, creamy shoulder. He assumed Tyrion was alluding to her history or her legacy. Anyone in the business had known that she came from a long line of ice skating royalty. She was the first to attempt it alone, without another Targaryen by her side to support and guide her. The weight upon her shoulders must be enormous.

 

“She’s ambitious, and if you stick with us, I guarantee she will propel you to heights you might not have thought possible. I think that, in turn, you will discover a depth of strength within yourself that you never knew existed. She’ll need your strength, your quiet resolve for when her ambitions lead you both into the unknown.”

 

Jon turned to look out at his new partner, the laps having softened some of the stubbornness from her features as Tyrion continued. “I believe you when you say that you want to be here, Jon Snow. So I ask you again. What the hell are you doing out there? She needs a partner, so do you. I’m not saying the road won’t be hard, and there will be bumps and bruises along the way, but you shouldn’t have to go it alone. We’re all right here for you. And that includes…”

 

Dany swept towards them and Tyrion raised his voice to her, “Oh, Your Grace!” before waving for Jon to start some laps of his own.

 

Jon snapped back to the present, studying Tyrion in the harsh fluorescent lighting. He needed to talk to Dei about getting some lamps in here to soften it all. “Your point?”

 

Tyrion sighed. “My point is that you love this sport, Jon. It’s what drove you back to the ice time and time again in times of trouble, and forgive me, but without it you are crumbling.”

 

Jon blinked, not exactly sure what Tyrion was getting at. “She needs you to be strong. Especially now. And without the skating, your resolve, that very resolve that I predicted you  _ would  _ find is flickering like a dying candle. And, as much as I would like to deny it, I think if your spark is smothered, hers will go out completely.”

 

Jon could feel the air whoosh out of him at the statement, and Tyrion looked at him with pity in his eyes before he reached for the seldom used remote control and put on the US National Championship. Only, it wasn’t the Pairs competition, it was the Mens. “I think you’d have an excellent quad. We just have to work on it.”

 

He clambered out of the chair and waddled over to Jon, pressing the remote into his hand. “Just think about it. Talk to her if it helps, but you know she would want you to do this. She would want for you to have everything your heart desires.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not a doctor, although I did do extensive research about these types of injuries, treatments, side effects, etc. The thing I was most struck by in prepping for this chapter is how much doctors still do not know about the human brain! Someone can fall from a sofa to a floor and never wake up again, and others can careen headfirst through a windshield and recover completely! You just never know! (So many exclamation points!!!) As this is fiction, know that there will always be a need for some suspension of disbelief, but also know that I did my best to make everything as factual as I could, given my understanding of the situation. If you are a medical professional and feel as if I have missed something, please feel free to DM me. 
> 
> Also, do you like this chapter as much as I do? Thank you all so much for your continued support! <3


	14. Dany - Post Nationals 2015

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As it's been a hot minute since the last update/last Dany chapter (damn you summer flu!), here's a brief update as to what has gone before--
> 
> In order to get the full amount of feeling from their Nationals Free Skate, Tyrion asked Dany if she was in love with Jon, and told her to show him in everything but words how she feels. Following Tyrion's advice, Dany let loose with abandon during their Adele/James Bond inspired skate, and led the team to become National Champions and qualify for the World Championship later that year (2015) in Shanghai. 
> 
> Back with a--

~*~*~*~*~*~ 

**_BANG_ **

 

Dany woke with a start, her heart pounding in her ears as her adrenaline kicked into gear. She fumbled for the lamp at the bedside table, only to send it crashing to the floor with the next--

 

**_BANG BANG BANG_ **

 

The lamp shattered at her feet, and the cats skyrocketed around the room as she swore and scrambled for her phone in order to shine a light on her now hazardous floor. (Fuck, what time was it?) She was all thumbs in her confusion and it took forever to get the flashlight app turned on, the banging that she now deduced was someone knocking on her front door continuing along with the sounds of a masculine voice calling her name.

 

“Dany? Are you in there?”

 

She finally got the flashlight on and groaned to discover that she now had lamp shards all over her bedroom floor and (thanks to the cats) scattered into her hallway almost all the way to her living room.

 

**_BANG BANG_ **

 

Gods, she was going to murder whoever was trying to break down her door at… she squinted at her phone trying to make out the number from her bleary eyes. Did that say--  _ 11:47pm _ ? Surely not. She had retired to her bedroom around 9pm, but she’d been working on typing up choreography to run by Dei for a potential new program for World’s and hadn’t fallen asleep, had she? Dany stretched out her legs, remembering just a smidge too late that if she had fallen asleep unexpectedly that her laptop must still be on her-- 

 

Another crash sounded, this time coming from the end of her bed and Dany groaned.

 

**_BANG_ **

 

“I’m coming!” she shouted in the general direction of the front door, the immediate silence ringing in her ears as she cast about for something, anything to put on her feet so the leftover pieces of the ruined lamp wouldn’t tear the soles of her feet to shreds.

 

And so that was how she came to throw open her front door wearing one hiking boot, one raccoon slipper, and a paper towel wrapped around her forearm to staunch the flow of blood from the gash she had gotten while trying to retrieve the second hiking boot from under her bed before giving up and grabbing whatever was closest before she could drip blood all over her floor. 

 

“What?!” she hissed before her sleep muddled brain could catch up to the culprit frantically pacing a groove into the carpet in front of her door.

 

She froze. “Jon?” she asked incredulously. The frazzled man standing before her was almost unrecognizable from the excited, but sedate partner she had left at the airport just six hours prior. Their flight back from Nationals had been mercifully short, and Dany had begged off joining the rest of the group at Bronn’s in order to get home to see her cats and get to work.

 

And, to avoid Jon if she was being completely honest. Tyrion’s little pep talk had done wonders for the competition, but to now have to face the fact that she  _ definitely  _ had some sort of ill-defined feelings for Jon was a bit more than she could take in one day. The entire group had protested her bowing out, but only Dei had seen the rising panic in her eyes and had gently steered the group away from her, promising to “pour one out” for her.

 

Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was the stricken look in Jon’s eyes, the way his eyes raked up and down her figure as if documenting each freckle to make sure all was in its proper place, but her heartbeat continued to thunder in her ears, her pulse jumping at her throat as her jaw clenched at the sight of him-- disheveled, shaken, raw. “Jon, what--?”

 

She got no further and suddenly she was in his arms, the one hand clutching the back of her head to his chest as his other arm snaked around her waist and pulled her flush against him. Throwing caution to the wind, she threw her arms around him, clutching his black sweater before she could help herself, nuzzling her head under the crook of his chin, the jump of his own pulse against her eyelid wild and erratic. Her thoughts tumbled into each other, each one no clearer that the next. Her panic at what would cause him to nearly break down her door, her flood of relief that he was all right, the spiral of guilt that no matter what it was, he was safe and in her arms, and the feeling of rightness, of belonging, at being clasped to him so securely. 

 

He shuddered in her arms, his entire body shaking, and Dany held on-- needing him to know that no matter what, she was here for him. She’d never let go, never so long as he needed her. She clung to him every bit as tightly as he was to her, only releasing the death grip on his sweater when she realized he could be hurt and ran her hands up and down his back, anxious to make sure that he was truly whole  and in one piece. The rest of her words seemed to stick in her throat, unable to ask what was happening, where the rest of their team was, if they were ok.

 

She pulled back, bringing her hands to his face to lift his gaze to meet hers, flinching at the pain she saw reflected in his deep brown eyes, the fear so deeply entrenched they were almost black. He was hyperventilating, each breath coming faster than the one before until he was almost gasping in her arms. “Jon.” she murmured, the pad of her thumb stroking his cheek, slowing her breathing in hopes that he would calm himself naturally.

 

Instead he jerked back from her, his hand releasing the back of her head, sliding down her neck and arm. She hissed before she could help herself as his hand brushed against the new gash on her forearm, the paper towel long forgotten and crumpled on the floor. His pupils dilated further, if possible, and he gasped. “Oh gods, oh gods, you’re bleeding--”

 

He shoved past her into the apartment, his movements sporadic and unfocused as the panic took over completely. “We need to stop the bleeding, put pressure on the--” he spun around, lost in the middle of her hallway, the fact that he had never set foot inside her apartment probably registering when nothing else was. 

 

“Jon, it’s fine-- just a scrat--” Dany tried to reassure him, but before she could get any further, Jon whipped off his sweater, taking the sleeve and wrapping it around her forearm to staunch the bleeding. “Jon!” she scolded, “Hey, hey! Look at me.”

 

He was focused on the sweater completely, deaf to anything she had to say as she jerked her arm out of his grasp and clasped his face with both of her hands. “Jon! Look at me!” His eyes were wild, rolling in their sockets as he desperately tried to keep his grip on her arm. “Don’t make me slap you, please.” Dany pleaded, needing him to breathe, needing him throw off the cloak of fear that was keeping him bound to panic. “I’m right here, I’m fine. The blood is a scratch from the lamp breaking.” She fought to keep her voice calm and even, determined not to give into Jon’s fear.

 

“You-- you’re…” He blinked furiously and Dany pressed her hands harder against his cheeks, grounding him as best she could.   
  


“I’m fine. It’s just a scratch.” She brushed her thumbs against his temples, applying a light pressure as she moved her fingers in small circles. “I’m home. I’m safe. I’m alive.”

 

“You’re al-- alive.” he parroted, his hands now gripping her wrists so tightly she could feel the bones moving.

 

“Yes.” she breathed, his chest heaving against her own as he gulped down air and she kept the pressure steady on his temples, holding his face in her hands until his breathing slowed, marred only by an occasional hiccup. He closed his eyes and bowed his head until his forehead came to rest upon her own. She lost track of how long they stood, locked in the awkward embrace in the middle of her hallway, her cats now peeking at them curiously, the door to her apartment wide open. Eventually, Jon took a shuddering breath and opened his eyes, now back to their normal warm chocolate brown, the fear finally receding and reason taking over.

 

“Is everyone else ok?” Dany whispered, her own fear now ratcheting up. “I know you were all at Bronn’s, but--”

 

Jon shook his head in her hands. “They’re all ok.” he said, his voice hoarse. “I just…” he trailed off, unable or unwilling to continue, his cheeks tinged red in embarrassment as he took stock of the situation with a (hopefully) clearer mind.

 

“Ygritte?” she asked softly, not wanting to pry, but at the same time needing to know what level of trauma had driven him to her door.

 

He hesitated, his eyes searching hers for some kind of reassurance, finding something in her gaze that eased him before nodding hesitantly. “I’m sorry.” he breathed. “I… I don’t know what came over me.”

 

Dany could feel a small, sad smile spread across her face as she blinked back sudden inexplicable tears. “It’s ok. I’m here.”

 

Jon nodded before slowly reaching for her again, wrapping his arms around her and drawing her to his chest for a tight hug. She went willingly into his arms, burying her face in the crook of his neck, her hands falling from his face and embracing his bare shoulders and back. 

 

She froze, her fingertips spasming as she realized the familiar weight and feel of his sweater was gone, and instead of the soft weave of the fabric, her hands were now embracing and spreading across a wide expanse of smooth, slightly dampened skin. She pulled away quickly, bending down to pick up the discarded sweater. “Oh no, there’s blood all over it--”

 

Dany unfolded herself from him and practically ran for the kitchen, running the sweater under the tap, the cold water running pink for a moment. “I’m so sorry.” she called over her shoulder. “Also, watch your step, the cats spread the shards a lot further than I expected.”

 

“Small price to pay.” Dany jumped as Jon’s voice sounded directly behind her and not still in the hall as she would have expected. She could feel her breath hitch in her throat as she fought to keep her composure and focus on the sweater in her hands, and not the man it belonged to. The now shirtless man who stood in her apartment. 

 

She felt more than saw him step even to her, his hands joining hers under the spray of the tap, gently prying the sweater from her deathgrip and wringing the sweater out over the sink before taking it from her and inspecting it more closely. Dany tried to keep her gaze focused on his hands, and deciding even that was too tempting, she reached for the cabinet under the kitchen sink to find a clean washcloth, running it under the water before she tried to clean the still bleeding wound on her forearm.

 

“If you want to just throw it in the washer, it’s right through there.” She nodded to the hall that led to the bedroom. “I can wash it and bring it to the rink tomorrow, and I’m sure I have another shirt you can--” She hissed again as the washcloth brushed against the jagged edges of the cut, and there was a wet slapping sound from the floor behind her as Jon dropped the sweater, gently reaching for her arm and turning her to face him.

 

“Here, let me.” Dany was helpless to resist him, keeping her gaze lowered as he ever so gently ran the cloth around the wound, cleaning the blood from her fair skin.

 

“I have a first aid kit in the bathroom.” Dany said, turning away to go retrieve the kit when his hand closed around her wrist, and he pulled her over to the kitchen table, sitting her down in the chair.

 

“I’ll get it.” he said slowly, pulling another paper towel off the roll and handing it to her. “You just keep pressure on this until it stops.”

 

Dany nodded, her trembling hand reaching over to press the paper towel to her arm as Jon picked up his sweater and hastily retreated. Her mind whirled in a frenzy. Jon. Jon was here, inside her apartment with only the cats as a chaperone. He had sought her out-- his mind driven relentlessly by the demons of his past, convinced that the curse must be in full swing to bring him to pound down her door. 

 

What was she going to do? She kept the paper towel pressed tightly to her arm, groaning to realize that there were most likely now blood stains by the front door to clean up along with the mess from the broken lamp and gods knew what else.

 

“Got it.” Jon appeared in the doorway again with the first aid kit in hand and Dany gasped before she could help herself, gaining her first full view of the expanse of his chest and the myriad of scars that covered it.

 

She could feel her eyes widening in horror, and she realized just how horrific the accident that had taken Ygritte must have been. She knew that Jon had been thrown from the car, but somehow the reality of it all had never set in with her until now. The tears that had been threatening to spill from her eyes finally won out, coursing down her cheeks as she took in the patchwork of his chest, settling the particularly nasty scar above his heart.

 

Her gasp had stopped him in his tracks, his eyes widening as he seemed to realize just now that he was no longer wearing his sweater. He stood there self consciously for a moment before practicality won out, and he sat heavily in another kitchen chair and opened the first aid kit, pulling out alcohol wipes, bandage, antibiotic ointment. He set up a little triage, and gently lifted the paper towel from her arm, his eyes focusing on her wound, and not on her eyes.

 

He opened the alcohol wipes and dabbed at the cut as gingerly as possible while Dany gritted her teeth and tried not to let the pity and horror she was feeling spill out over them both. “It’s from the accident.” he said gruffly, the roughness of his voice and visage the exact opposite of the tenderness in his hands as he finished cleaning her up as best he could.

 

“I figured.” she said, fighting to keep her voice light and failing miserably. Jon lifted his gaze to meet hers, and his face fell as he took in her tears. 

 

“Am I hurting you?” he pulled away. “I’m so sorry, Dany, I shouldn’t have--”

 

Dany shook her head furiously. “You’re not hurting me.” (Not yet, anyways-- a little nagging voice in her head reminded her sharply.) She pushed her thoughts away from anything that wasn’t the lost man in front of her. “I just never realized…” Her voice trailed off. “I’m sorry, Jon. About Ygritte.”

 

She could see his face tense as he fought to keep himself under control and not lose himself to the waves of grief beating at him unmercifully once more. He closed his eyes for a moment before shaking his head forcefully and reaching for the bandage, peeling off the backing and tenderly placing it over the gash. “I am too.”

 

“Do you--” she swallowed tightly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

 

He stared at her for a moment, seemingly taking in her unkempt appearance and his surroundings for the first time. “Were you asleep?”

 

Dany self-consciously brought a hand to her mussed hair, patting it down to try to calm her wild appearance. “I must have fallen asleep while working on our new program.”

 

“That’s why you didn’t answer your phone.”

 

Dany blinked. “You called?”

 

Jon chuckled, the warm sound seeming strange and odd in the still charged air surrounding them. “A few times.” he admitted. “When you didn’t answer, I--” he rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. “Well, I think you know what happened next.”

 

Dany nodded slowly, her heart going out to him. When she hadn’t answered, his cruel mind had concocted some sort of scenario that ended with her following a similar fate to Ygritte’s. His panic had driven him to her door-- her door which was still wide open-- 

 

“Oh gods!” she screeched, skyrocketing to her feet in a panic of her own as she pelted down the hallway to find that, indeed, her front door was still wide open and sure enough-- both Rheagal and Viserion were standing in the opening, their faces lifted to the skies as their curious noses took in all the scents and sounds of the world beyond. And if Rheagal and Viserion had worked up the courage to explore the world beyond the door, that must mean that-- “Drogon!” she whispered furiously, shooing his brothers back into the apartment, and throwing herself out the front door, her eyes scanning the perimeter, searching desperately for the large black cat, knowing that it might already be too late, she might have already lost her best and most steadfast companion forever.

 

“Drogon?” she called, “Here kitty, kitty! Come back to mama.”

 

“Dany?” Jon’s voice followed her into the hallway, even as she ignored him, her feet carrying her to the end of the hallway towards the stairwell, wondering if he had somehow gotten the door open and was either outside, or upstairs, or-- “Dany.”

 

“What?” she whipped around, her heart in her throat as Jon stepped out of her front door, holding an armful of black fur that could only be-- “Drogon!” she yelped joyfully, running back to Jon and pulling her kitten from his arms, nuzzling his little face with her own and clasping him tightly to her even as he squirmed and meowed in protest. “Where was he?”

 

Jon’s face was lit with a perplexed little smile and he shrugged. “The other two came running like bats out of hell after you shooed them back inside, and then this one appeared in the doorway to your bedroom. I think he was napping.”

 

“For once.” Dany grumbled as Drogon pushed away from her face, unwilling to take her cuddles anymore and jumping out of her arms, landing with a dull thud. “Thank you.” she said, peering up at Jon. “I’d introduce you formally, but they’ll be in hiding until next Tuesday now. It’s been an… eventful night.”

 

Jon quirked an eyebrow at her. “Yeah.” he winced. “I saw the remains of the lamp, which explains the crash I heard while I was knocking.”

 

“Pounding.” Dany supplied helpfully, biting her lip to keep the sudden urge to laugh hysterically at bay.

 

He narrowed his eyes at her before conceding. “Pounding, fine. Where’s your broom. I’ll help you clean up.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok y'all-- we are getting very close to the end. I anticipate 2 more chapters in this Dany section (the next of which I think many of you have been eagerly waiting for), then 1 more section and the epilogue to follow.
> 
> I'm so sorry about the unexpected break! I haven't had the flu for 13 years and it laid me out. Thank you to all of you who checked in, sent me warm thoughts and good energy, and were such wonderful cheerleaders while my couch and I were busy becoming one being. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and I sincerely hope that you are all still here with me.
> 
> Lots of love! <3


	15. Dany - Things Said and Unsaid (2015)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *tissue alert*

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Jon Snow wanted to stay and help her clean up. 

 

Dany bit her lip to keep the giggle building in her throat swallowed back. The last thing she needed right now was to give in to the hysterical laughter that was creeping in the corners of her mind. The improbability of it all-- How on earth did they get here? Her apartment was in shambles, her cats were likely never going to forgive her for the disturbance, and the man that she was quite possibly (probably) in love with after all was standing in the hallway of her apartment (sans shirt), staring at her with his molten brown eyes, apprehension still lingering around the edges. He was coming back more and more to himself with every breath, every moment spent in (dare she say it? dare she even think it?) her presence.

 

“You don’t have to help clean up, it’s late.” She heard herself say, even as her fingertips twitched around the doorknob. Everything inside of her wanted to slam her front door shut and run her fingers up and down his chest, exploring every hard ridge, every concave shadow. To soothe every hurt and every scar, caressing them with her lips and tongue, baptizing them with all of her tears that still threatened.

 

He studied her in the dim light of the hall, his movements slow and steady as if dealing with a skittish fawn. She fumbled on, knowing that if he were to stay, the last vestiges of her will power would crumble. The walls constructed out of necessity would finally crash to her feet around her, the over-powering loneliness would finally rear its ugly head, and reputation be damned-- she would consume him, body and soul. 

 

“Like I said,” she squeaked out, “It’s late, and I can wash your sweater and bring it to the rink tomorrow. I’m sure I have another shirt that you can wear to get home.”

 

“Dany.” His voice was impossibly soft.

 

She kept going, scrabbling to hang on to the last shred of her dignity, fighting to protect them both from her shame. “It might be a big on you, but you know, better than going out without a shirt in the middle of winter in New England, am I right?” She barked out a laugh before she could help herself, clapping a hand over her mouth to stifle it, knowing it was already too late. She was becoming seriously unhinged.

 

“Dany.” His smile (Gods, his  _ smile _ …) made her go a little weak at the knees and she continued to giggle into her hand, shaking her head as he took a step closer to her, his hand stopping just short of coming to rest on her shoulder.

 

“Where is your coat by the way? Did you leave it at Bronn’s? I can call to make sure he’s still there. He normally closes up early on the weeknights, but-- oh wait. Did you walk over, or did you drive?” She couldn’t help herself, her words spilling out before she could stop herself.

 

“Dany, did you happen to hit your head on anything before you answered the door?” He stepped a tiny bit closer and Dany backed up again, now trapped between the wall and her front door, still giggling with abandon, the entire situation unfair, and unfunny, and deserving of more delicate attention and care. But now, she was quite literally a shaking, laughing mess, unable to move, much less breathe, function, or think of anything but how much she wanted to lick every visible (and some not yet visible) parts of the devastating, gorgeous man in front of her.

 

She shook her head, not sure if she could withstand anymore of the onslaught of his protectiveness and tender care. “Nope, I’m fine. I don’t know why this is so--” she wheezed, the laughter constricting her throat and making it difficult to pull in air. She must look a crazy mess-- hair undone from her normal sleek braids, tears streaming down her face, but whether from the laugh attack, or a holdover from the intense emotions earlier she wasn’t sure. A newly bandaged gash on her forearm to accompany her hiking boot/raccoon slipper shoe combination, her flannel shorts and worn Mereen University sweatshirt from her year spent abroad in college with the holes in the collar and sleeves where she could slide her thumbs through if she got cold.

 

“It’s just so damn funny.” She slid to the floor, her arms wrapped protectively around her knees as she rested her forehead upon them and let the laughter flow. “You’ve only been here once. Once! And that time you wouldn’t even come in!” She could hear her voice getting more and more shrill as she went on, but could do nothing to control it.

 

“The fucking contract!” she wheezed in hysteria. “And now, you’re standing in my hallway, without a shirt, and my favorite lamp is broken, and now you want to stay.”

 

His deep chuckle brought her up short, her own laughter dying in her throat as she snapped her head up. “Your favorite lamp, huh?” His own laughter continued to build, the chuckle deepening into a full throated roar that lifted her heart at both the sight and sound of his transportation of joy. “Who has a favorite lamp?”

 

She sniffed indignantly, fighting to hold the imperious look she knew had dropped over her face and failing miserably as she dissolved into snickers. “I do!” She extended a leg and nudged him with her slipper. “I got it in Pentos a few years ago. It matches--” she snorted a guffaw of her own. “Well, not anymore I guess! It  _ used  _ to match my eyes.”

 

“Well, this I have to see.” Jon reached down, and closed a hand around her elbow, mirth still dancing in his eyes and in his oh-so-kissable lips, and pulled her up, setting her gently back on her feet before reaching behind her and closing her front door and firmly throwing the lock. “Don’t want any more escape attempts from the kittens tonight.”

 

Dany’s lips quirked in response, and they were both gone again, lost in the delight and buoyancy that could only be brought on by great joy being found in the face of great fear. He also had tears streaming from his eyes, and before she knew what she was doing, Dany reached out, the sleeve of her sweatshirt pulled down to catch the moisture as she wiped the tear tracks from his cheek. Jon’s laugh died in his throat, the sudden silence ringing in her ears as he caught her hand as she tried to draw away, rolling her sleeve back and pressing a tender kiss to her palm.

 

Dany jerked her hand back as if the mark of it burned, her cheeks flaming as her own giggles whooshed out of her and her stomach plummeted, a searing bolt of want streaking through the heart of her, pooling in her belly. Everything in her called, nay--  _ demanded _ that she finally give in, that she thread her fingers into his silky curls, that she sweep her tongue past his plump lips to discover what he truly tasted like, that she press herself into him, letting the heat of her core seek him until he was writhing and begging, and then she would sink into the fathomless depths of him, or of him into her until they were one-- a mass of want, and need, and (no, she musn’t) love.

 

But…

 

She looked up at him, this man who had wormed his way past all of her defenses-- silently, broodily, shockingly, and she knew that this was not the moment. Fear had driven him to her door tonight, not an overwhelming desire to make her his, and she had to remember that. To protect him from himself if it was needed, and more importantly, to protect him from her, and the fire that would consume them both if she let it.

 

“I think that--”

 

“Dany,”’ he whispered, taking a step closer, his hand trembling as he swept a wayward tendril of hair behind her ear, his thumb stroking down her cheek as the rest of his nimble fingers danced at the nape of her neck. Her fingers felt like sausages in comparison as she grasped his hand, gently drawing his probing fingers from her face.

 

“Jon, I think that you should go.” He staggered back as if gut-punched, and Dany felt her entire chest constrict at the hurt blossoming in his eyes. It took everything in her power to not reach out to him, to not draw him to her chest, absorbing all the pain and suffering as best she could, not letting him go until he was whole again.

 

“What?” he blinked. “Dany, I don--”

 

“This isn’t a good idea, and we both know it.”

 

Jon sighed. “Look, if this is about the contract, I can explain--”

 

Dany shook her head, fighting down the gnawing curiosity that flared to life in her. “It’s not about the contract. I mean-- not really, not all about it anyway--”

 

“Than what? I don’t understand.”

 

Dany gestured helplessly, casting about for something, anything that would make sense to him in this moment, knowing that nothing would sound exactly right, nothing would placate and comfort, no matter how much she wanted to, just... nothing would. “We can’t-- it’s not the right time. You’re still going through a lot, and I’m--” she barked out a harsh laugh. What was she, truly? An ambitious young woman on the verge of accomplishing the beginning of her dreams, with no family except the ones she chose, and no one to come home to at night except for her cats. A woman who was falling more and more for a man who might shatter her in such a way that she would never be able to piece herself back together again.

 

“I’m-- I’m your partner.” The pain searing through her at that statement was almost too much to bear. But, she had to acknowledge the truth. She was his partner first and foremost, and his… whatever she was-- friend? second. “You’re not here for me, tonight.”

 

She could see him trying to swim through his confusion, but finally understanding dawned. “This isn’t about Ygritte.” he ground out. “You didn’t answer your phone, and--”

 

“If Dei had called and I didn’t answer, she would have assumed that I was asleep, not dead.” She took a shuddering breath. “You loved her-- Ygritte. You loved her, and you lost her, Jon. That’s terrible, no one should have to go through anything like that, but--”

 

He shook his head wildly, his unbound curls falling haphazardly over his face, blocking his rapidly darkening eyes. “Ygritte and I never--”

 

“I’ve been to your house, Jon. Remember? I’ve seen the place that she crafted to be a home for you both.” She hated herself for doing this to him, despised every word that dropped from her mouth, but found that she was unable to stop, like a child picking at a barely healed scab, she just kept picking and picking and picking. “Have you moved the pair of rainboots yet? The green ones, with the white polka dots? Are they still outside your front door, waiting for her to wear them again?”

 

His look of shock was all the answer she needed, and yet, she still kept going, tearing through the scab to the skin below. “Is her picture still in the dining room? And if her picture is still in the dining room, where else does she linger for you?”

 

Dany flinched as she saw something inside of him break, all of the weak moorings he had managed to tie off for himself breaking free and setting him adrift. “What about Drogo?”

 

She reared back as if slapped. “What about him?” her voice was dangerously quiet. “He doesn’t concern you.”

 

Jon barked a laugh, nothing like the shared joy of a few moments before, laughter now turned to ashes in his mouth-- bitter and dark. “Seems like you named your fuckin’ cat after him, is all. Along with a brother who tried to kill you and I don’t even know who the third one is named for, but if we’re following the same pattern, must be some other abusive bastard who’s never going to actually be there for you and will abandon you the moment things get tough.”

 

Dany felt like a fish.  _ Rheago.  _ She could feel her mouth opening and closing under the onslaught of Jon’s furious words, but there was nothing she could say, no defense she could mount. “And don’t get me started on the security and fucking Jorah!”

 

Her mind was spinning out of control. “What are you talking about? Jorah is just doing his job--”

 

“Yes! The job of protecting you that apparently has needed to be done your  _ entire  _ life, but you won’t tell me why, or who hurt you, or what to do to fucking help! I had to hear from Davos about what happened with Daario.” Jon raked his hands through his hair as Dany stumbled back from him again.

 

Davos, how did Davos know anything about what had happened with her and Daario? Jon must have seen the confusion in her eyes, the fear as he stormed on-- “He was there. He was in Montreal the night you broke off the partnership in the green room, he saw Daario seemingly take the news that you were breaking off the partnership well at first, and then the second you turned your back, that fucking bastard went after you--”

 

Dany shoved her hands over her ears, shaking her head as the tears streamed down her face. “Don’t, Jon.”

 

“How he shoved you up against the wall and threatened you in front of an entire room of--”

 

“Jon!” she screamed and his mouth finally snapped shut. She threw open her front door. “Get out.”

 

He wilted in front of her, his eyes searching hers wildly. “Dany, don’t shut me out.”

 

“Get out, Jon.” She stood her ground, trembling from head to toe. “I--” her throat clicked. “I need to be alone right now.” Screaming at herself to move, she stalked down the hallway and into her bedroom, throwing open one of her drawers and rummaging through it until she found a sweatshirt large enough for Jon to wear. She stood again, half expecting him to be standing behind her wanting to go for Round 2, but instead she found him exactly where she had left him, slumped against the wall, the weight of their histories threatening to drown them both.

 

“Here.” she said dully, throwing the sweatshirt at him. “It was Drogo’s so no need to return it. He’s never coming back for it anyway. Thanks for the reminder.”

 

“Dany.” Jon sighed, sagging even further. “I’m--”

 

Dany held up her hand, drawing on every bit of strength left in her to not crumble before him. “I’ll bring your sweater to the rink tomorrow. I’ll see you for practice.”

 

“You-- you’re-- We’re still…?” he trailed off, all of their accusations and unanswered questions wafting through the air, thick with everything there was still left to say.

 

“We’re going to Worlds, Jon. Of course we’re still--” she waved her hand between them helplessly. “Just go. Please.”

 

Jon braced himself against the wall, looking as if he might keel over any minute. “Dany….”

 

“We’ll talk about it later. When we’re both a little more clear-headed. Get home safe, Jon.” She tried to keep the bone tiredness from her voice, but knew she was unsuccessful.

 

He stared at her for another brief moment, struggling mightily with something within himself. Dany wasn’t sure if he won or lost, but he finally nodded sharply and left, his movements jerky and stiff. She shut the door behind him, the dull click of the deadbolt thudding home in her chest as she sank to her knees and finally let the sob she had been holding back rip from her throat.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just... don't know what to say really. These guys are running away with my story and I wouldn't have it any other way-- it is theirs after all. <3
> 
> A lot came up in this chapter that we will get into more detail about soon, Dany just couldn't tonight. (And yes, I do mean Rheago, not Rheagar-- no Rheagar in this world.)
> 
> Until next week-- lots of love for you, my readers. Let's take care of each other this week (and every week!). <3


	16. Dany - The Visit (2015)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Thank you.” She said quietly as the two women slipped away. Jon shrugged and reached for her bag, lifting it easily over his shoulder and offering her a hand to scramble over the snowbank. Dany took it without thinking, mentally cursing herself as her cold fingers wrapped around his, warm from his pockets. She climbed over as quickly as she could, snatching her hand back and shoving it deep within her own coat pocket to keep from reaching out for him again.
> 
> “I promise, they’re friendly-- hopefully they won’t ambush you again.”
> 
> “I don’t mind, honestly. I just didn’t know they were visiting today. I would have…” she trailed off, unsure of what to say or how to continue, the awkwardness of their last encounter seeping into her bones. “I would have done a lot of things differently.”
> 
> Jon stared at her, his eyes dark, hungry, still hurt. “Same.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Dany had no idea how long she crouched on the floor, huddled in on herself. Time seemed fluid, flowing over her as she let the tears flow down her cheeks, pouring over her hands that she had thrown over her mouth to stifle the sobs, her neighbors had no doubt been put through enough drama this evening. Her thoughts were jumbled, a fragmented collection of memories and feelings, each no clearer than the next. All she knew was that there was a very real possibility that she had lost everything. Again.

 

Her carefully constructed walls were crumbling around her-- the mechanisms put in place to protect her all these years now veering wildly with no ounce of control left, leaving her a conflicted, vulnerable wreck. There was no room for weakness in a Targaryen. How many times had Viserys told her that, screamed it at her in practices? Even as a young girl she had known that to show weakness would be nothing more than an invitation to vultures and other creatures who wished to prey on her more sensitive side. She had stifled that side of herself, the side that longed for comfort and love, and instead had learned to thrive on determination and strength.

 

It’s what had brought Drogo to her side in the beginning-- the fact that she had never wavered in her goals, even in the light of the family drama surrounding her at the time. In his own way, Drogo (while rough and raw), had helped to further instill a sense of dominance within her, a steel to her backbone that he had seen and nurtured and praised. She had lapped it up like a starving kitten, the milk of Drogo’s particular brand of loving kindness intoxicating to her younger self. 

 

But, as with most brittle materials, those that didn’t learn to bend were soon broken upon the wheel of fate. She hadn’t even known she was pregnant before Rheago was brutally ripped from her. Her son would have been beautiful, would have been made for greatness, would have been his mother’s pride and joy-- and yet, just like his mother, he had faded away to nothing, his existence as fleeting as a shooting star.

 

She had rebuilt herself from there, one brick upon the other, learning to rely only upon herself, and no one else-- Jorah her only constant through the tumultuous years following. She gathered Dei and Tyrion and Daario to her side, only floundering in self-pity at the very basest of moments when it felt like the rest of her world would come crashing down upon her shoulders.

 

And now, Jon… Jon with his beautiful, sad eyes, who made her feel as if her entire universe was imploding in on itself like a dying star... His exquisitely gentle soul drew her in like a moth to the flame, but she also knew that the fire buried deep within him also held the same curse she held within her soul as well. If left unchecked, the licking flames would consume them both-- the fires of their shared passion ignited and erupting. 

 

The spot on her palm where he had placed his kiss burned, branding her with his mark. She shuddered as she remembered his broken eyes, so shattered when she had jerked away. She pressed her palm to her chest, foolishly hoping that the burn of the mark would soothe the icy ache of emptiness in her heart. She already missed him, already regretted sending him away even though neither of them were prepared for the emotional turmoil and weightiness of the truth. To peel back the layers of themselves, to flay each other to the bone knowing that bloodletting was the only way to achieve true healing.

 

She was frightened, if she were being honest with herself. She had operated under one rule for so long-- don’t look back, always move forward-- and yet… Here was a man who cared about that former version of herself in a way that she didn’t understand. She knew what would have happened if she had allowed him to stay. She knew herself well enough to know that within an hour they would have been completely, irrevocably entangled in each other, contract be damned. 

 

She also knew that eventually she would have to tell him all about herself, and allow him to shine the light of his goodness through every nook and cranny of her darkened soul. Then, and only then would she know if he would stay or flee.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Dany jerked awake the next morning, scrambling for her phone buzzing on the coffee table, knowing in her heart that it must be Jon. “Hello?” she answered breathlessly, no thought in her mind except for the marrow deep need to hear his hoarse voice again, if only to assure her wounded spirit that she had not destroyed him in their conflagration as well.

 

There was no answer, no rush of surprised breath, just ringing silence. Confused, she pulled her phone away from her ear to make sure she hadn’t somehow dropped the call, only to notice that her phone had been alerting her not to an incoming call, but to a text message from Dei.

 

**You’re late.**

 

“Shit.” Dany flew to her feet, stumbling around her living room as she tried to formulate a plan for her morning that really needed to include a shower and tea and time to make sure that she wouldn’t fall to pieces when she next saw him.

 

**Sorry, rough night. Be there in 20.**

 

“Shit, shit, shit, shit.” She bolted for the bathroom, thankful that she had finally emerged from her stupor enough last night to sweep up all the lamp shards, making her entire apartment less of a literal minefield, and more of an emotionally figurative one. She wrapped her hair in a bandana to avoid it getting wet, knowing that she would regret not taking the time to work out the snarls, but opting for efficiency over comfort.

 

She made quick work of her shower, making sure to scrub her face raw, preferring it to seem red and newly exfoliated rather than give any more evidence of her precarious state from the night before. She glanced briefly into the mirror, slathering some concealer on the pervasive dark circles under her eyes, shoving her toothbrush into her mouth as she ran around her apartment gathering her gym bag, and throwing her equipment inside, taking an extra moment to find a reusable bag to fold Jon’s clean sweater into. Blowing a quick kiss to the kittens, she shouldered her bag and slammed the front door, locking it behind her.

 

Her phone buzzed again as she ran to her Silver, tossing her bag into the passenger seat as she jammed the keys in the ignition. The radio blared to life, some insipid song about bright sunshiny days souring her mood even further as she viciously jabbed at the buttons until silence blessedly rang out.

 

**S’ok. Jon’s late too. Tyrion and I must have missed the memo.**

 

Dany groaned, her forehead coming to rest on the steering wheel. That was not a good sign. Her treacherous imagination was already running away with her, anxious to make sure that he had made it home in one piece, knowing that she would never forgive herself if she had turned him away only to find that something tragic had happened. Everything inside of her demanded that she drop everything and call him to make sure he was all right, but her stubbornness and practicality won out in the end, determined not to do to him what he had done to her the previous night.

 

Still, she found herself chewing her bottom lip the entire way to the arena, a bad habit she thought long dead resurrected in her duress. Her tires squealed as she whipped into a parking space, her eyes already roaming over the other cars in the lot, counting off each one and finally spotting Jon’s jeep between Jorah’s sedan and Dei’s beat up hunk of junk. A breath she didn’t realize she had been holding whooshed out of her and it took two tries to extract her keys from the ignition, her hands trembling violently until she folded them between her knees, closing her eyes and taking a few steadying, cleansing breaths.

 

She could do this. She could face him today. She could--

 

A knock sounded on her window and she yelped in surprise, whipping her gaze to meet a startling pair of grey and blue eyes, both belonging to two women she didn’t recognize. The redhead to which the blue eyes belonged gave a gracefully excited little wave, while the much shorter grey-eyed brunette stood stoically in the cold, her gaze traipsing over Dany seeming to clock every detail of her face, both the visible and the invisible.

 

Dany smiled automatically, not knowing if they were fans, or reporters anxious to land an interview with the newest National Champions. She was already mentally berating herself for not taking a few extra moments at home to make sure she was more presentable. Motioning for the women to step back, she cracked open the door, reaching over into the passenger seat for her bag, and climbing out, taking a moment to regain her balance on the icy pavement.

 

“Oh my gods! Congratulations!” the redhead beamed, linking her arm through Dany’s and patting her hand so familiarly Dany had to wonder if they had met on a previous occasion. “We are so excited for you and Jon!”

 

Dany glanced over her shoulder to make sure the brunette had closed her car door, as the redhead now firmly held her within her grasp. “Thank you?” She said, not enough caffeine in her bloodstream to be able to handle whatever this was with any grace. “We’re very excited too. Just a few months until Shanghai.”

 

The brunette appeared at her other side soundlessly, and Dany had to fight down a startled jump. “That was some Free Skate yesterday.”

 

Something about her tone rankled Dany and she turned to face her new combatant. “Dei’s a wonderful choreographer, what can I say?”

 

An unladylike snort from the brunette. “We were given to understand that Dei had little to do with that program.”

 

“I’m sorry?” Dany stared at the younger woman, perplexed as to how she would have gotten that information.

 

“No,  _ we’re  _ sorry.” The redhead patted her arm affectionately. “We’re doing this all wrong.” She stopped in the middle of the parking lot, taking a moment to lift the bag off Dany’s shoulder and place it gently on the ground. “I’m Sansa, and this is--”

 

“Arya!” Jon’s voice cracked like a whip across the lot, the echo striking straight to her heart, and suddenly Dany’s head was spinning. If they were…

 

“You’re Jon’s cousins.” Sansa beamed again, her carefree smile inciting Dany to rare jealousy, even as she reached around Dany’s neck and pulled her into a brief hug.

 

“I told you she would know who we were.” Sansa tossed Arya an imperious look, her smile now smug.

 

“Sansa! What did I tell you?” Dany could hear the exasperation in Jon’s tone as she gently extracted herself from Sansa’s embrace and knelt to fiddle with her bag once more, not anxious to meet his gaze, to see the remnants of hurt in his eyes, and to feel the burn of unshed tears in her own yet again.   
  


“We’re going to get coffee! We just happened to run into Dany on the way--” Sansa shrugged as Dany shouldered her bag once more and pasted an overly bright smile on her face.

 

“It’s lovely to meet you.” She said, patting Sansa’s hand once more and nodding at Arya, still silently studying her. Dany tried not to let the younger woman’s unsettling gaze fill her with unease, but was decidedly less than successful. “Jon speaks of you both often, but if you’ll excuse me, I’m actually quite late.”

 

Sansa shook her head, her long red hair bouncing around her delicate face. “Oh, it’s not a problem. Jon’s late this morning too.”

 

“Sansa.” His warning tone went largely ignored by his cousins, but Dany could feel herself shrinking from him.

 

“Never a good excuse.” she murmured, prying her arm from Sansa’s grasp as gently as she could. “I’m sure we can catch up after--”

 

“Sure.” Arya’s gaze was level, taking in all of her, and Dany could think of nothing to do but nod.

 

“Can we get you anything from the coffee shop?” Sansa interjected. “We’ve already got the team’s orders.”

 

“No, no, thank you tho--”

 

“Black tea with honey and lemon.” Jon’s voice was soft and hesitant, and Dany finally let her eyes fall upon him, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, braced against the biting wind. Dany took a deep breath, the questions in his eyes resounding within her, trapping her where she stood, unable to look away.

 

“That’s how she takes her tea.” Jon reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled twenty dollar bill, holding it out to Arya, who took the bill, but never let her own gaze leave Dany’s face.

 

“Yeah?” Arya asked, an eyebrow shooting skyward in skepticism.

 

“Aye.” Jon stated firmly, even as Dany nodded.

 

“Thank you.” She said quietly as the two women slipped away. Jon shrugged and reached for her bag, lifting it easily over his shoulder and offering her a hand to scramble over the snowbank. Dany took it without thinking, mentally cursing herself as her cold fingers wrapped around his, warm from his pockets. She climbed over as quickly as she could, snatching her hand back and shoving it deep within her own coat pocket to keep from reaching out for him again.

 

“I promise, they’re friendly-- hopefully they won’t ambush you again.”

 

“I don’t mind, honestly. I just didn’t know they were visiting today. I would have…” she trailed off, unsure of what to say or how to continue, the awkwardness of their last encounter seeping into her bones. “I would have done a lot of things differently.”

 

Jon stared at her, his eyes dark, hungry, still hurt. “Same.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Practice was mercifully cut short for the day. After an excruciating hour and a half on the ice, Tyrion grew tired of watching them fumble around each other, all of their easy grace and connection drained away. Before he let them go for the day, however, he pulled them to the side of the ice.

 

“I don’t know what’s going on today, we’ll call it the ‘post-Nationals slump’, but Worlds is three months, so you two had better snap out of it quick. We don’t have time for this nonsense.”

 

Dany didn’t respond, studying her her hands and picking at a stray cuticle on her thumb. “Your Grace, am I boring you?” Tyrion’s words stung and she drew herself up to her full height, squaring her shoulders and pinning him with what she hoped was an intimidating gaze.

 

“Of course not.” She bit out. “I didn’t have anything constructive to add.”

 

Tyrion simply narrowed his eyes at her, a bit of his own frustration leaking through before he huffed out a breath and continued. “We seem to have stumbled upon a newfound trajectory that is paying off in spades, but we need to adjust it for a more traditional audience for Worlds.”

 

Dany couldn’t help shooting a perplexed look at first Dei, then Jon, his own eyes showing as much confusion as her own. Tyrion continued. “We’re keeping Skyfall, that seems to be quite the crowd pleaser, but Dei and I think with a few edits we can turn it into a much more successful Short Program, and we’ll work together to find something more romantic for the Free Skate.”

 

This time it was Jon who shot her a confused look. Were they really proposing that they learn essentially two new programs in 3 months? 

 

Dei chimed in, “I think I’ve got just the thing. A more classical composer and music to appeal to the old school nature of Worlds, but combined with our special modern flare, who the two of you are. It’ll be the best that both worlds have to offer.”

 

Dany could feel the words flowing over her, but felt sluggish, completely incapable of putting up a fight, or even getting a word in edgewise. Jon on the other hand-- “Are you sure this is a good idea? We just won Nationals with these tried and true programs, should we really be going back to the drawing board on this right now?” His eyes cut to hers, pleading a bit, but all Dany could do was shrug.

 

“If this is what you think is best…”

 

“Don’t tell me you’re shying away from hard work now, Snow.” Tyrion countered. “And if you think something as trite as ‘Wagon Wheel’ will appeal to a more globally minded audience, then we need to have a longer discussion about what is truly expected on the world’s stage.”

 

Jon’s mouth snapped shut, his displeasure obvious in the tension of his brows, the curl of his lips, but Tyrion continued, wanting to drive his point home. “This will be your first Worlds, both of you. This will be my eighth. The Lannister’s hold hallowed ground in this competition. This is no longer child’s play. Now is the time for the both of you to grow up-- anything less than perfection from here on out is unacceptable, especially if you hope to accomplish the Trifecta any time soon. The Grand Prix is only a few months after Worlds, but you’ll need to win to get invited to that particular party.”

 

Dany reached out to place a hand on Jon’s arm, stalling out just inches from touching him, her hand hovering hesitantly before dropping listlessly to her side. “He’s right, Jon.”

 

“I know he’s right, Daenerys.”

 

Dany jerked back, her full name dropping from his lips with disdain. She could feel her jaw clench, and it took everything in her not to take the bait and cruel reminder of everything that still remained unsaid between them and crucify him in front of their team and his cousins, avidly watching their conversation from their seats a few rows back. Instead she straightened her spine and fixed him with a withering look. “Then there’s nothing left to say.”

 

“There’s plenty left to say.” He bit out angrily, reaching for his skate guards and pulling them on before dismissing himself from the team meeting and stalking towards his cousins, no doubt eager to put as much distance between them as possible.

 

“What is going on?” Dei murmured for her ears only, but Dany shook her head, retreating back to the ice, needing to cool off both literally and figuratively while also giving Jon as much space as she could. She could hear snatches of the conversations between Tyrion and Dei and Jon and Sansa as they all moved toward the green room to change and go about the rest of their days, but Dany resolutely put it all out of her mind, simply trying to concentrate on putting one skate in front of the other.

 

She had reached her eleventh lap when she heard the quiet voice. “You were both shit today.”

 

Dany skidded to a stop, bristling against the truth, mostly because it stung. It took a minute to find her in the stands, Arya somehow managing to blend into the background of the empty stadium with aplomb. “Well, normally our practices are closed, so our shame can be kept secret.”

 

Arya smiled tightly, the tense humor not reaching her eyes. “Something happened.”

 

“Excuse me?” Dany nearly choked. Was it that obvious?

 

“You just won Nationals yesterday, with a rather… steamy program, if you don’t mind me saying.”

 

“Your point?”

 

“You know that Jon grew up with us, right?” Arya made her way down to the wall, her easy grace reminding Dany sharply of a cat stalking its prey. “Jon’s mom died when he was just a few days old. My dad was her brother, and he promised her that no matter what, he would take care of Jon. He’s my brother more than my cousin really.”

 

Dany nodded. “He speaks very highly of you.”

 

“Usually he speaks very highly of you too.” Dany could feel her face heat at the words, her heart dropping in her chest as the “usually”.

 

“So… I know my brother. I know him very well.” Dany didn’t say anything in response, just watched as Arya made her way to the wall and leaned her elbows over the edge. “Something happened.”

 

Dany cycled through any number of responses, discarding each in turn, somehow knowing that anything less than the truth would be treated as hostile, reason enough to incite Arya’s obvious defensiveness of her loved one. Finally she nodded. “We won. That’s what happened.”

 

“Normally people winning things is treated with joy and delight.”

 

Dany bit her bottom lip, gliding to a stop next to Arya, looking past her. “Neither Jon, nor I are particularly ‘normal’.” Arya said nothing in return, raising an eyebrow in silent question. “Losing is easier in a way. No triggers in loss, just mutual commiseration.”

 

Arya sighed audibly. “Ygritte?”

 

Dany ducked her head, not wanting to betray Jon’s confidence, not even to his self-proclaimed sister. “You’ll have to ask Jon.”

 

Arya’s eyes flashed with her first sign of real amusement, her smile widening in sincerity. “Good.” she said simply. “Good.”

 

Dany narrowed her eyes and the younger woman, putting the pieces of the test together, her own suspicion ratcheting up. “Did Jon know about this visit?”

 

Arya cut her gaze from Dany’s, a smirk of her own spreading. “He knew when we arrived this morning.”

 

“And why the sudden urge to see him? You’ve never dropped in like this before.”  

 

The cat-like look returned, Arya’s face looking as if she had swallowed the canary whole. “You’ve never won before.”

 

Dany laughed, surprising herself with the spark of amusement cutting through the gloom of the entire day and previous night. “Well, maybe you can piece him back together better than I can.”

 

Arya’s answering laugh was bitter. “I don’t think that’s how this works, exactly. But, he’s family. Family doesn’t give up on each other just because things get rough.”

 

Dany’s mouth snapped shut, her mind suddenly ringing with her own words thrown back in her face. Arya continued on, seemingly obvious to the conundrum she had laid in Dany’s lap, wrapped up neatly with a little bow. “Sansa and I will do what we can, but we already lost him once.”

 

“I don’t think he’s the one who’s...” The words escaped before Dany could draw them back, Arya’s eyes cutting to hers and studying the rigid planes of her face.

 

Arya shrugged. “Maybe you both are. Maybe together the two of you can finally find a time and place of healing.”

 

“If I look back, I am lost.” Dany whispered.

 

Arya was quiet for a moment, her shrewd grey eyes taking in every detail of the rink, avoiding Dany’s gaze as if she knew that eye contact would spook her. “I’ve found that when I look back… That is when I learn.”

 

She was gone as suddenly as she had appeared, before Dany could even absorb the full impact of her thoughtful words, and it took Dany a moment to find her in the stands, joining Sansa and Jon as they exited the green room, interrupting their quiet conversation. She watched as Jon wrapped his arm around his youngest cousin, ruffling her hair in easy familiarity. Dany felt her heart pang and the sight. Almost as if sensing her walls faltering, Jon’s gaze snapped over to hers and for once, Dany let him see her vulnerability-- not ducking away, not hiding, not protecting herself, or him.

 

He didn’t smile, but even at this distance she could see his eyes soften. She didn’t look away, even though everything within her was screaming for it. Instead she raised a tentative hand in a little wave, and Jon paused for a moment before finally lifting his hand to salute in return. She smiled sadly at him, feeling the ice between them give way with a resounding crack. She took a deep breath and tore her gaze from his, searching for her water bottle and skate guards so she could pack up and go home, somehow knowing that before the end of the night, he would appear on her doorstep once more.

 

And this time, she would be ready for him.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta love some tough love from Arya <3
> 
> I hope you all enjoy! I'm not quite sure I'll be able to post next week as my best friend is getting married and I'm his "Best Man", and then my husband I immediately leave for a weekend trip to good ol' Beantown for my birthday (whoo!). I promise I will try, but just in case I don't, you all know what's going on.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading! <3


	17. Dany - Bridging the Gap (2015)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They talked into the wee hours of the morning, Jon helping her over the hurdles she had set for herself, asking carefully crafted, gentle questions, guiding her to the locked doors of her past and waiting patiently for her to find the keys and lead him through herself. They opened a bottle of wine, both knowing that fortification was needed, having exhausted all of their own bravery and then some.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy World Cup Day! If you follow, whether you are happy or sad at the outcome, have this gift of celebration/sympathy. Reader's choice (literally).
> 
> I've known for awhile that I was following very similar structure and beats to Season 7 (obviously heavily influencing what I was writing along the way). Have fun with this weird mix-mash. Also, maybe grab a tissue or two...

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The clock showed 8:56pm when three gentle taps sounded at her front door.

 

Dany took a deep breath and glanced around her apartment once more, trying to see it through new eyes, his eyes really. She had rushed home from the ice rink, knowing that her to do list would be long and formidable. She had vacuumed every surface, making sure that each shard of her obliterated lamp and every bit of cat fur possible was removed, even going so far as to scrub the hallway by the front door by hand, anxious to remove all the wayward drops of blood. She did her best to expunge the sights, smells, and memories of the previous evening. It had been cathartic in a way, a way to shed the paralyzing fear that followed her at every turn, so long ignored that Dany had almost managed to convince herself it no longer existed.

 

Once the cleaning had concluded, she had hopped into the shower, taking extra time and care with her hair, making sure it was properly shampooed, conditioned, and brushed until it shone. Working with Tyrion for so long meant that she always had a bottle of wine (or two, or three) on hand, so there was no need to stop by the store, but she had also put on a pot of coffee (and set the kettle for tea for herself), just in case clearer minds were needed for wherever this evening would take the both of them.

 

She ran her fingers over the coarse wool of his clean sweater hanging off the back of her sofa, and reached for the remote to turn the music she had been playing down to a softer, more comfortable level. Not wanting to keep him waiting, or alarm him further she hurried to the door, her trembling hands fumbled with the deadbolt. She finally got it unlatched, but took one more moment to gather her courage, pressing her forehead against the cool wood of the door before opening it slowly.

 

He looked so sheepish standing in the harsh lighting of her hall. Young, timid, and oh so very vulnerable. It made her heart ache to know that she had caused this, that the rift between them had only been widened by the fear that had been holding the both of them hostage for so long. Only one hand was shoved into the pocket of his coat (she was glad to see it had been successfully retrieved from whatever site had been holding it hostage the night prior), and in his other hand he held a small brown paper bag.

 

Neither of them said a word, somehow knowing that the fragile peace they achieved might be shattered at any moment. Neither wanted to make the first move that might serve as a crack that would rage out of control until they both were shouting at each other across the gaping void widening between them. Instead they both stared at each other silently, questioning, eyes full of unsaid feelings and… longing, if she was reading him correctly.

 

Dany took a shuddering breath, trying to steady herself. Her fingers tightened around the door knob before she gently nudged the door open further. She wouldn’t force him to come in-- last night had been extreme, his desperation to make sure that she was unharmed pushing him to make a decision he might not have truly been ready to make. If he balked, she had her purse and coat within easy reach. All he needed to do was say the word, and they would go to Bronn’s, or some place where they were both less well known if necessary.

 

Instead, Jon surprised her, accepting her silent invitation, and stepped into her hall. His eyes, so warm and so different than the broken shattered look that haunted her memories from his last visit never left hers even has he caught the door and closed it gently behind him. “Don’t want another escape attempt.”

 

Dany felt a small smile spread over her face at his thoughtfulness. “We had a little chat this afternoon. They know better than to do that to Mama again.”

 

Jon smirked in return, and Dany felt her heart soar to know that he was truly more in control of himself this evening. More of the sedate, caring partner with a quiet sense of humor she had come to rely on, rather than a slavering, fearful stranger, bound to his own fear with no room for reason or calm. If only she could find an ounce of his bravery, then maybe… maybe they could salvage this relationship and continue on as they were.

 

Or as something more.

 

Dany quickly shook her head, not wanting to get ahead of herself. They had a lot of ground to cover this evening, some of which might make him want to run for the hills and never speak to her again. Only time would tell. “Can I take your coat?”

 

Jon nodded and shrugged out of the down jacket, handing it over to her, and she hung it next to her own, beckoning for him to come further in out of the hallway. “Do you want the tour? I know you saw most of it yesterday, but…” she trailed off, uncertain how much of yesterday he wanted to discuss.

 

“Yesterday, I was a little preoccupied?” he offered. She nodded, grateful for the assist, and he spread his arms, indicating for the tour to commence.

 

“Well, I think you have seen the hallway in all its glory, so we’ll skip that with my lord’s permission?” He snorted, but managed to nod regally. Her own smile grew as she led him into the living room, a cozy combination of furniture she had collected over the years, each decorated liberally with mismatched blankets and throw pillows. A box of cat toys that she knew she had put away lay dumped out over the floor, and the three likely culprits lined up dutifully in front of it.

 

“Have you-- are they trained to do that?” Jon’s incredulous voice sounded behind her, and Dany had to bite down a laugh in response.

 

“No. More like the guilty returning to the scene of the crime.” She knelt down, nudging the cats out of the way, and started throwing the toys back into the box, more than a little surprised when Jon also kneeled beside her, helping to gather the various mice, feathers, and shiny things into the box. “Thanks.”

 

Jon simply shrugged in return, shifting to sit cross-legged on her living room floor. “So, the big one is Drogon?” His voice was surprisingly steady, given the accusations he had hurled at her in desperation last night, and only hesitated slightly before barreling forward, holding out his hand for the cats to sniff.

 

Dany took a steadying breath, somehow knowing that this was the last precipice of safety for her, and if she chose to go down this path with him, there was no guarantee of victory, or security for her. She could only hope that at the very least he wouldn’t run from her, both personally and professionally, and at most that he would catch her if she fell, bringing her into his understanding and quiet strength. She also sat and reached out to give Drogon a quick scritch. “Yes, that’s him. He’s the oldest-- the firefighters found him first-- he was protecting the other two and refused to let the rescuers help until they had Rheagal and Viserion in hand as well.”

 

At Jon’s shocked look she backtracked quickly, not sure if she had told him the full story of how she came to have three cats. “After everything that happened with Viserys, and then with Drogo, I moved to Montreal to start over. There was a fire in a nearby apartment building. It was horrific-- the entire building was gone in the span of a few hours. Everyone living there lost everything.” She nodded to the cats. “I’m not sure what happened to their original family. Tragically, a few people didn’t manage to escape the fire, and I imagine more than a few just took the insurance money and walked away, but these little guys…”

 

Dany paused, a lump lodging in her throat. “I was out walking the neighborhood a few days after the fire, just trying to get my bearings, and I stumbled upon the animal shelter that had been tasked with taking in all of the pets that had gone unclaimed. I still don’t know why I went in. It’s almost as if I could hear them calling out to me.” She peeked up at Jon, half expecting him to be staring at her as if she had gone mad, but the soft look (of awe?) she found instead shook her to her very core.

 

Her voice trembled as she continued. “They were so small, all three of them together in the same cage, and they barely took up even a quarter of it. But as soon as I passed by, Drogon stood up, stretched, and came right to the front of it. He shoved one of his tiny paws through the wires and let out the loudest bellow of a meow I have ever heard.” She shook her head, lost in the memory as Drogon head-butted her hand for more pets. “I turned around and there he was-- no fear, all strength and determination, and I knew that he was what I needed. When I heard the entire story, I knew I couldn’t separate them, so I took them all.”

 

She risked another glance at Jon, his eyes warm, but with an intensity she wasn’t expecting. “You rescued them.”

 

“They rescued me.” They were both quiet for another moment, Drogon buried in her lap. “I think that’s why I named them like I did. They remind me of the cost of my freedom. In some ways good, in some ways not. But anything worth having always has a cost, and like or or not, the three people they are named for helped to shape me into the woman you know today.”

 

A breath she didn’t realize he had been holding whooshed out of Jon as if he had been slapped. She glanced over to him, concerned, wondering at his thunderstruck look. Neither said anything for a moment as Jon gathered himself, until finally, he reached out to gently stroke Drogon as well, their fingers tangling in his fur. “So, which one is which?”

 

Dany braced herself for the landmine she knew was coming, wishing that there were something she could do to shield Jon from the shock of it, but knowing that truly, there was nothing to be done but rip off the bandage, and hope that they would be able to stop the bleeding together. “The white is Viserion.” she said softly, “Named for my brother, of course. And the black with the white ‘boots’ is Rheagal.”

 

Another deep breath. “Named for my son.”

 

Jon’s hand stilled over her own, her words no doubt shocking him. Dany rushed on, ducking her head to keep her flushed cheeks hidden from him, blinking back the tears that always threatened when it came to her son. “He would have been named Rheago, had he lived.” Only Jorah had been with her then, her only source of commiseration. He knew what it meant to never have a child, and so now would she.

 

“Yet another of the many reasons Drogo and I didn’t work out in the long run. We were separated by the time it happened, but as soon as I told him, he begged me to take him back. He would be better, I would be better, we would form the family we both lacked. We would try again, intentionally this time.” Her voice was getting higher and higher pitched as she went on, unable to stop speaking, pouring the truth from herself like bile, the bitterness of it catching in her throat. “I was the one who refused. I knew that I was truly changed, but Drogo… Sometimes lo-- love--”

 

Her voice broke, tears dripping down the angles of her face onto their hands and Drogon below. There was an indignant meow as she was suddenly brought forward and Drogon was tipped out of her lap and onto the floor. Jon’s hands tangled in her hair as he brought her head to his chest, his heartbeat rapid and steady under her cheek as she sobbed. Her fingers scrabbled for purchase, clutching his shirt and the solidness he offered like the lifeline it was. He said nothing, only shifting to move them both to the couch where they could be slightly more comfortable as the minutes passed.

 

Dany lost track of time, the only sensations registering were his hands stroking her hair, gently wrapping strands of it around his fingers, and the soft murmurs of nonsense as he held her. As the storm of tears subsided, Dany relaxed into him, absorbing what she could of his sturdy nature, his strength more quiet than the raw power she had learned to draw from Drogo. At last, the only sounds were her hiccups and the music playing softly in the background.

 

Finally, Jon shifted under her, his hands moving from her hair to cup her chin and tilt it up to look at him. Dany tried to pull away, not wanting to see the pity in his eyes, but he held her firmly, waiting for her to make eye contact before he went on. Dany squeezed her eyes shut, reaching deep for the steel to strengthen her spine, and finally took a shuddering breath and opened her eyes.

 

She was glad she was sitting, for the warmth and _love_ pouring from his gaze would have definitely softened her knees to the point of collapse had she been standing. The rough pads of his thumbs brushed the rest of the tears from her eyes and cheeks, his own eyes burning as they searched her own. Dany wet her lips, taking a breath to say something, anything, when he dropped a finger to her lips, the salt of her own tears falling upon them.

 

“I’m sorry.” he said tenderly, catching her by surprise as her eyes welled up with tears again at the caring words. “I’m so sorry, Dany. I thought I knew-- we all thought we knew you…”

 

Dany pressed her cheek further into her palm, fighting the urge to bury her nose in the pulse point of his wrist, longing to inhale the unique smell of him, to feel the pulse of his blood in his veins through her lips as she explored every inch of him. “It’s hard in this business, but we do manage to keep some secrets.”

 

“Sometimes I think that the secrets are the worst part. Instead of trusting each other, we spend all our time coming up with better and better lies. I hate it.”

 

Dany brought her hard to rest on his own, knowing that she would need to proceed carefully. “Is that why you’re having such a hard time letting go of Ygritte? Because what you had was secret?”

 

Jon blinked, his eyes never leaving hers even as he swallowed tightly. “Apparently not a very good secret, if you knew about it.”

 

“The community suspected, but I didn’t know until I was in your house. I thought you were going to murder me when I nearly knocked her picture over.”

 

“We didn’t think it was anyone’s business but our own.” It was Jon’s turn to duck his head, his gaze shifting from her own to their joined hands as he sought out his next words. “We had seen what happens when partners get together.”

 

Dany felt her lips quirk. “That’s a very diplomatic way of saying that you saw what happened to me and my ‘reputation’.”

 

Jon sighed. “Ygritte didn’t want to be accused of seducing her way to victory, and I couldn’t blame her there. In the end I just couldn’t help myself.” He bit his lip, struggling with himself for a moment before taking a breath and plunging forward. “I didn’t want that to happen again with you.”

 

Dany blinked and pulled back from him, settling their hands in her lap. “Jon Snow, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

 

“Depends on what you think I’m saying.”

 

What was she saying? That he had basically just said that unless he insisted on keeping to the bloody contract, that he wouldn’t have been able to help himself when it came to her, that the misery he had put her through was actually not about her at all, but about him and the depth of feeling he already felt for her. “Was the contract put in place because you were afraid that _you_ wouldn’t be able to control yourself?”

 

Jon squirmed uncomfortably, finally bringing his burning gaze to meet hers again, the intensity of it stopping her breath in her throat. “Let’s just say-- if I had trusted you from the beginning, everything would be different.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

They talked into the wee hours of the morning, Jon helping her over the hurdles she had set for herself, asking carefully crafted, gentle questions, guiding her to the locked doors of her past and waiting patiently for her to find the keys and lead him through herself. They opened a bottle of wine, both knowing that fortification was needed, having exhausted all of their own bravery and then some.

 

They spoke at length of Drogo, Ygritte, and even Daario, Jon tensing beneath her hands as she recounted the Montreal story that Davos had witnessed from her perspective, thanking her lucky stars that she had someone as loyal as Jorah by her side to watch her back when she was blinded by ill-fated, misguided trust. The kittens came and went, offering their own brand of comfort as their mother and new friend navigated these new truths, the bonds of trust strengthening with each syncopated breath, each small smile, each light laugh as they turned from tragedy to hope.

 

“Your cousins are nice.” Dany smiled. “Although Arya is a little intense.”

 

Jon laughed, a full throated roar delighting Dany, the flash of his brilliant smile dazzling. “Needle strikes again, I see. I was wondering what she said to you.”

 

“Needle?” Dany asked, his obvious affection for his cousin turned sister obvious to anyone with eyes.

 

“Aye.” he said. “She has a way of sticking you until you either give her what she wants, or you’re bloody and bruised.”

 

Dany laughed, a more accurate description of her experience than she had anticipated falling from his lips. “Are they here tomorrow? I didn’t get a chance to really chat with Sansa.”

 

Jon shook his head. “No, they left this evening with very clear instructions for me. Unfinished business.”

 

Their gazes locked, and Dany reached for her wine, taking a sip to give her hands something to do other than rake through his curls, explore his newfound (to her) scars, or other more intimate things. Jon cleared his throat, the fire in his eyes this time a smolder rather than a towering inferno. “I have something for you. Sansa was appalled to find out I never brought you a housewarming gift when you moved here for me.”

 

Dany blinked, surprised at the sudden turn. Jon pushed off of the couch, walking over to where his coat hung, reaching into the pocket and withdrawing the long forgotten brown paper bag. He walked back to her, standing in front of her and offering her the bag. “Sorry, I’m shit at wrapping anything.”

 

Dany looked up at him curiously, her hands automatically accepting the bag. “Jon. I’ve been living here for two years now. You didn’t have to--”

 

“I know.” he said. “I wanted to.”

 

She bit back a small smile, her heart pattering wildly in her chest as she opened the bag and reached inside. Her fingers closed over something cold and slender, and she withdrew the breathtaking blown-glass rose, the blue of it deep, almost cobalt, shifting in the soft light of the lamps. She could feel the blush spreading across her cheeks, the delicate flower seeming to open before her very eyes.

 

“Jon.” she murmured, lifting her eyes to his, drowning in the depth of feeling in his chocolate brown eyes. So many questions flitted behind her closed lips, waiting to see what he would say, if anything. After a moment, she went on. “It’s beautiful, thank you.”

 

He smiled fully. “Thank you, Dany. For everything.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, I gave a Dany quote to Jon, but it was just so perfect, I couldn't not!!! 
> 
> Thank you everyone for all of the birthday wishes, and a special shoutout to @mtargaryen for sending my husband and I on one of the BEST room escape adventures we have ever done. The Clocktower was so fun!!
> 
> Also, I've joined tumblr. I have no idea what I'm doing, really, but feel free to stop by there as well-- you can find me @jalenmara. Also, also, if you've already found me on tumblr, but your username isn't the same (looking at you @jonerys-reblog <3) let me know who you are so I can start putting the pieces together.
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed the chapter! Next up-- Worlds!!


	18. Dany- World Championship 2015

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the gentleness returned, and Dany once more found herself in Jon’s arms, completely wrapped up in him, gathering her strength and courage for the more intimate lifts, nuzzling herself into the crook of his arms as together they fought gravity to a draw. Finally, they reached the end, Jon on his knees under her, lifting her to the heavens, wonder and awe alight in his eyes as the last strains of the music faded away, the crowd’s cheers a vague sensation as he lowered her to the ice.

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The next few weeks flew by in a blur. Although no one said it out loud, when she and Jon showed up to the arena the day following their catastrophic rehearsal with hearts light and open, the sense of relief from their coaching and management team was palpable. Dei had even tried to pry the details from her (for she was discerning in the extreme, and knew that  _ something  _ had to have happened), but for once Dany was close-lipped about what had transpired between Jon and her. She was still raw from the unfolding of her heart to him, and had no desire to invite more people into her state of vulnerability.

 

Thankfully, Tyrion was more than happy to distract them from their burgeoning questions and feelings for each other. After all, they had a World Championship to win. With their Skyfall program needing to be re-worked completely into a short program, and Dei’s new Free Skate looming on the horizon, they had their work cut out for them. The days were long and hard, and more often than not, the entire group retreated to Bronn’s to unwind after the long and grueling days.

 

Also, more often than not, Dany would find that she and Jon were the first to the arena in the mornings, and the last to leave the comfort of their home away from home in the evenings, almost as if the hesitance to be away from each other for longer than a few hours had seeped into their very beings. It was the little things-- Jon showing up daily with tea from their favorite coffee shop, Dany purchasing a particular favorite rawhide bone for Ghost that showed just how familiar and ingrained they had become in each other’s lives. Their relationship now easily transcended that of partners and friends, and lay somewhere in the murky netherworld of “other.”

 

Neither felt the need to point it out, as if the other would be spooked if they addressed the phenomenon directly, but as the days and weeks went on, they found that the other’s presence in their own homes had become a constant as well. Their early mornings in the arena together led to carpooling, and the carpooling led to “Well, do you want to come in to warm up for a moment?”, and the warming up led to long talks over tea and wine and dinner and everything in between.

 

Jon proved to be a constant font of surprise as well. From the first moment he had invited her into his home, Dany was surprised at the changes since her first (and only) visit. Previously, the feminine touches had been overwhelming, the ghost of Ygritte’s presence lurking in every corner, but now…

 

The rainboots were nowhere to be found, the porch cleared for winter, and the garden was bare and waiting for the new growth of spring. Indoors held a warmer, more welcoming quality. Gone were the formal white lace curtains and doilies, a modern touch of abstract blown-glass art (similar to the rose he had given her, she had noticed) taking the place of the knick-knacks that used to cover every surface. When Dany asked about the redecorating, Jon simply shrugged. “It’s time.”

 

And he continued to surprise. No more than two weeks after their late night heart to heart, Jon appeared one morning with a pristine new contract, the same as before, but with one key difference-- all clauses about them being alone together were mysteriously missing. Dany could feel her cheeks heating as he held the door of his jeep open for her, waiting until she had climbed into the shelter of warmth before he handed it to her.

 

“Have your lawyers look it over if you want, but it’s much more…” He paused, his eyes on the road instead of her, his knuckles turning white as his grip on the steering wheel tightened. “...standard.”

 

Dany could feel her heart thrumming in her chest. She hadn’t asked for this, although by now they had broken the particular clauses to which he referenced several times. She simply tucked it into her bag, trying desperately to ignore the butterflies fluttering nervously in her stomach. “I’ll get it back to you by the end of the week.”

 

“No rush.” he replied easily, his smile breaking through the clouds of his expression like beams of sunlight in a storm.

 

Dany also found herself grinning at him stupidly, knowing that at last, they were positioning themselves for something great, something that  _ could _ last forever, something that would be better than any legacy she could build on her own.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Dei’s Free Skate was a work of art. While their Skyfall program was all rough edges balanced delicately on the blade of sensuality, the Free Skate was everything their short program could not be.  Open, light, romantic. Two sides of the same coin, but deeply illustrating the longing, the want, and the ease which encompassed every bit of themselves as they skated and cared for each other.

 

And yet, nothing physical had progressed beyond the occasional hug and kiss on the cheek, both of them straddling the edges of professionality. Dany felt herself slowly burning up from the inside out. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she could not make the first move, even though it was her habit. She had studied Jon for long enough to know that while she could lead a horse to water, she couldn’t make him drink. 

 

And so she waited. Her heart in his hands, and in her throat. It went against all of her modern feminist sensibilities, for she longed for nothing more than to greet him in the comfort of her own apartment with a glass of wine and a command that he take off all his clothes and ravish her in ways she had only dreamt of up until now.

 

But no. She knew instinctively that that if she were to do that, all would be lost. She was no longer the person who barged in and took what she wanted for her own with little regard for the feelings of others. She had been down that path before and both times had ended in madness. Perhaps this time, she could learn the art of patience, the sensation of savoring the smallest touch, the slightest spark of joy in a whispered word, the deep guttural feelings of want as the waiting, the longing, grew and lengthened. 

 

So instead, she took a page out of Tyrion’s book, putting all of her feelings into her skating. She did her best to show Jon in all but words the true surface of her heart-- the nooks, crannies, wounds, and scars of it, now entrusted solely to his capable hands.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Dany didn’t often think of Boston as a large city (she had lived in New York for a time after all), and so often found herself surprised at the modern conveniences it offered. She had been convinced that there would be no direct flights available from Logan International to Shanghai Pudong, but Jon had simply laughed at her for her ignorance. Her breath still caught in her chest at the sight and sound of it, his luscious bottom lip caught between his teeth as he tried (in vain) to temper his response to her.

 

Tyrion more than happily set her straight, relieved that numerous flights were not needed to travel to China and back, and that he would only have to endure one monster, marathon flight of 15 hours rather than a number of puddle jumpers to larger airports and planes to get them safely to their final destination. As they boarded their flight, Dany easily fell into her role of caretaker for Tyrion and got him settled with his face mask, water, and instructions to the flight crew to wake him for any and all beverage services. Finally, leaving him to Davos’ tender mercies and care, Dany consulted her ticket once more to check her seat assignment, instinctively searching for Dei.

 

...only to find that Dei was lodged between Jorah and Grey, which meant that… Jon quirked an eyebrow at her playfully as he stood to help her with her carry-on, taking it from her shoulder and lifting it easily into the overhead compartment. “Window or aisle?” He asked, sweeping his arm out over their row, offering her first choice.

 

Dany bit back a grin as she threw a pointed look at Dei who steadfastly ignored her and continued to pour over the safety booklet with Grey, pointing out the various nearby exits. “Window.” she breathed, settling into the seat and pulling her seatbelt over her lap, snapping the buckle into place and situating it low across her hips. “You can’t see the magic of the skies from the aisle.”

 

Jon snorted. “The ‘Magic of the Skies’, eh? You might have to walk me through that one.”

 

“Oh, it won’t be hard.” Dany smiled at him before turning back to the window, making sure that the shade was fully open. “Do you not like flying?” she asked, wondering if in her desire to not make her interest so obvious, she had missed a key component of her... partner. She knew that Tyrion hated flying, and that he often self-medicated his way across oceans in an attempt to sleep through the longer flights, but Jon-- She never got the impression that Jon feared much of anything.

 

“It’s not my favorite thing in the world.” He admitted, his hand rubbing the back of his neck in discomfort. “But, once we get up in the air, I’ll be fine. Take-off is the worst.”

 

“Oh Jon, no.” She breathed. “Take-off is the best… That’s the epic battle that ignites the magic. Only those who have fought gravity and won can ever truly enjoy the beauty of flight.”

 

He leaned his head back against the headrest, the warmth in his eyes telling her that he was thoroughly charmed by what she had to say, albeit skeptical. “Epic battles and magic, huh? I think I’ve been missing out by sitting with Davos for all of our flights up ‘til now.”

 

Dany shivered under his gaze, reaching up to adjust the vent blowing cool air directly on her. “Well, stick with me Snow. I’ll show you wonders you have never seen.”

 

“I don’t doubt that at all.” His response was whispered, almost missed, and Dany could feel her cheeks heat. Before she could respond, the flight attendants walked through the cabin for the safety demonstration, and then the captain’s voice was on the intercom, asking the flight attendants to prepare for take off.  

 

Jon gripped the armrests, the tension in his hands and face obvious. Dany laughed lightly and pried the hand closest to her off the upholstery and threaded her fingers through his own. “Stick with me, kitten.” She said teasingly. “I’ve got you.”

 

Jon cracked an eyelid and peered at her suspiciously, his fingers tightening around her own by reflex. “It’ll go better for both of us if you let me concentrate right now--”

 

“It’ll go better for both of us if you close your eyes and just listen to the sound of my voice.” She whispered, leaning closer to him and resting her head gently on his shoulder, his hand firmly caught in her own, and her head resolutely turned toward the window as she went on. “Did I ever tell you that I actually wanted to be a pilot when I grew up?”

 

His head bumped hers as he shook his head. “You might have skipped that before now.”

 

“Before my parents died, before it was just Viserys and me, we were always traveling. Mum and Dad always had a million engagements to go to, the Targaryen ‘legacy’ needing do be upheld, don’t you know. Viserys hated flying, it eventually got so bad he had to be sedated for every flight, even the short ones. But me…” She paused to take a breath, her fingers gently stroking Jon’s, hoping that he would relax under her ministrations soon. “I love flying. The speed, the rush… the freedom.”

 

The plane rumbled around them, coasting out to the runway, a hush falling over the passengers as each settled in for the long night ahead. “We flew so often when I was growing up that my dad actually knew most of the pilots on our usual routes. Sometimes, they would bring me up into the cockpit for a while and let me watch them. Pilots are the bravest of humans. And only the bravest reap the best rewards.”

 

A jolt, and Jon’s grip on her hand tightened. Dany smiled and brought her other hand up to gently rub his forearm, soothing as best she could. The plane was picking up speed, and Jon’s breath hitched in his chest. “This is the best part, Jon.” She said softly. “Gravity doesn’t want anyone to fly-- she despises birds for defying her, and now humans too. But flight is a gift…” The rumble around them increased. “Gravity fights to keep us grounded, she’s a jealous mistress who doesn’t want to share the wonders of the sky with those of us who would know its secrets. She wants to keep us small, and timid, but we--”

 

The noise was growing ever louder, and Dany leaned closer, her lips now brushing against Jon’s earlobe, struggling to be heard above the rattling of the plane. “Now, we fight. We come together, building speed and purpose, knowing that the beauty we are about to behold is greater than the tethers of our fear keeping us grounded.” The plane tilted as the front wheel left the tarmac, leaving only the rear wheels clattering on the pavement behind them.

 

“The last vestiges are always the hardest to shed, the last of our fears to leave behind, for there is no room for fear in flight. Only hope. The ground wants to hold us prisoner, but the sky--” The plane lifted off completely, surging upwards in triumph as Jon gasped quietly beside her. “Oh, Jon. They sky calls for us. And we must answer.”

 

His eyes flew open, the grip on her hand firm as he brought her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the tips of her fingers. “And so we will.” He said quietly, sending Dany’s heart soaring even further into the heavens.

 

“So we will.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

_ “Ladies and Gentlemen- Welcome to our live coverage of the 2015 World Figure Skating Championship! We’re thrilled to welcome you to the Shanghai Oriental Sports Center in Shanghai, China. I’m your host for the evening, Scott Hamilton, and I am joined once more for our Pairs Skating Free Skate coverage by none other than former World Pairs Champions, Oberyn Martell and Ellaria Sand!” _

 

_ Ellaria’s laugh rang out over the sound waves. “Ah, Scott, You are a dear. Thank you for having us back! It is a delight to be here, and to be surrounded by such new and burgeoning talent.” _

 

_ “That’s not all that ‘burgeoning’, my love.” Oberyn smiled, and leaned closer to his paramour, her hand firmly captured in his own as he lifted it to his lips for a gentle kiss. “We have had quite a thrilling few days here in the arena.” _

 

_ Scott nodded. “So true. So far China has put up a strong showing, proving once more than home ice advantage is no myth. Both teams of Han/Sui and Tong/Pang performed admirably in the Short Program, and now sit in second and third respectively.” _

 

_ “Don’t count out the Canadians either.” Oberyn intoned. “Radford and Duhamel sit in first place after the Short, and are poised for victory once again, fresh off their National Championship just a few short months ago.” _

 

_ Ellaria tittered a gentle laugh. “Oh, my love. When will you learn?” _

 

_ “Learn?” Oberyn shot her a dark glare full of promise. _

 

_ “Yes, learn.” Ellaria’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Snow/Storm is not to be counted out by any stretch of the imagination. Their Skyfall program was certainly a crowd favorite.” _

 

_ “Ah, yes, the crowd’s favorite, but not the judges.” Scott was quick to point out. _

 

_ Ellaria nodded sedately. “To be expected-- their programs have been in flux since the US National Championship. Those who follow our sport will recognize that the Skyfall program used to be their Free Skate, although I hear that choreographer Dei Naath has cooked up something equally as showstopping and spectacular for tonight’s showcase.” _

 

_ “I should hope so.” Oberyn snorted. “This isn’t child’s play.” _

 

_ “Well, there’s only one way to find out.” Scott said brightly. “Stay tuned folks, Snow/Storm kicks off our final group for the Free Skate, next!” _

 

_ ~*~*~*~*~*~ _

 

They huddled in the Green Room as a team. Neither Dany nor Jon had said a word all morning, each retreating into themselves a bit as they repeatedly walked through the program, their only communication that of their hands as they reached for the other, going over every skill and move under Dei’s watchful eye.

 

“Remember-- grace, elegance, height, skill.” Dei droned on. “I want your lines long, your steps light. Jon, I want to think she’s going into space, you’ve thrown her so high. Dany, your landings have to be soft, everything you do needs to be buoyant, lifting the both of you as high as you can go.”

 

Dany nodded rotely, her mind a whirl. After years of training, they were finally here. National Champions in their own right, poised on the brink of something life changing for them both (if they were to gain the international spotlight). A win here today would mean an invitation to the ISU Grand Prix event in the fall, and more notoriety that she or Jon had enjoyed ever before. Making an international name for themselves could only help in her long-term goals, which definitely included PyeongChang in 2018. But first, she needed to concentrate on the skate in front of her, and on her partner.

 

He was like a man reborn. Gone were the nerves that seemed to haunt him during Nationals. Instead, it was she who seemed uncharacteristically nervous and trapped within her own head. She folded her trembling hands in front of her, clasping them together so tightly she knew there was a chance of bruising tomorrow. She just wanted to do well. Dei had choreographed a beautiful program, the haunting music of  _ La Terre vue du ciel _ by Armand Amar, staying with her for days, creeping into her dreams. Dreams which always concluded with Jon folding her into his warm embrace-- 

 

No. She couldn’t think about that right now. She owed it to them all to concentrate, to bring the best of her, the best of them both to the forefront of her mind, and to pursue this victory with all of her dogged strength and tenacity she had nurtured over the years. She glanced at Jon, who reached for her hands, bringing them between his own and rubbing briskly, before unclenching them and weaving his fingers through her own.

 

Tyrion stood before them, watching warily. He had seemed excited to see their growing bond at first, but lately, Dany didn’t know what had gotten into him. Scowling, sighing, and generally displeased with them for reasons she couldn’t begin to comprehend. “You’ve got an uphill climb ahead of you.” He said sternly. “Digging yourself out of fourth with two Chinese teams in your group will be difficult--”

 

“But not impossible.” Jon broke their unified silence with a promise, an edge of warning to his tone that Tyrion picked up on immediately. 

 

“No.” He murmured. “Not impossible, but this is no longer child’s play. You  _ must  _ be perfect. There is no more room for error.”

 

Jon’s grip on her hand tightened as he glanced down at her, the warmth and determination she saw in his gaze firmly mirrored in her own. “Then we won’t leave any.”

 

“Final group to the ice, please. Final Group to the ice, please.” The announcement rang out over the intercom, and the sudden swirl of cacophony deafened her, her mind blank except for the steadfastness of her partner, grounding her beside him. 

 

There was a whirl of last minute well wishes, hugs, and kisses as they removed their skate guards, Davos and Dei full of warm pride, even Jorah and Grey cracking through their stoicism with slight grins of encouragement. Tyrion reached for her hand briefly, giving it a gentle squeeze, and a small, sad smile before nodding and bowing over her hand. “Your Grace.”

 

She shot Tyrion an exasperated smile and a narrow look of warning before she and Jon stepped out onto the ice, leaving everyone and everything behind. They didn’t look at each other as they swept around the ice, taking a full lap to acclimate and settle into themselves, shaking loose the nerves.

 

“The first skaters in this final group represent the United States of America. Dany Storm, and Jon Snow.” At Jon’s brief squeeze of her hand, she spun out, turning in his arms to look up at him just once, her eyes blazing and her breath catching at this sight of his determined gaze before turning her back into his chest, both arms gracefully extended on either side of her, their fingertips touching ever so slightly.

 

Today, they didn’t need words. The music said everything that they were unable to say. The gentle chords of the piano and strings elevating them into each other, folding them together as they moved and flowed across the ice. She reached for Jon, putting all of her longing and need into her grasp, as he moved  _ just _ out of reach, the gentle chase across the stars lifting them together-- the call of the air, of freedom begging her to join them.

 

His hands, sure and strong, went to her waist in preparation for their first throw, and suddenly she was airborne-- flying, spinning, a delighted laugh falling from her lips as she threw herself with abandon into the program. His hands again on her waist as he caught her, bringing her down to the ice as gently as if she weighed no more than a leaf on the wind. The crowd erupted into applause, and she knew at his grin that this was the beginning of something truly inspired.

 

The next throw was even larger, all of Jon’s power on display as he threw her as hard and as far as he could, trusting her to harness his strength, control all of the speed and strength he had gifted to her as she floated through the air, her landing soft as a cat’s, the ice calling her to the home she had found in his arms. She chased him across the ice, his expression begging to be caught, for her to find all of the cherishment she lacked within him.

 

His hands guided her softly through a series of lifts, his quiet strength on full display. Not showy, not flashy, but just so solely Jon she felt her heart tug in her chest, bursting with pride that they could be  _ this _ for each other, the softness of their gazes falling upon the other with exquisite gentleness and care. Together, they opened the windows to their souls, carrying the audience along with them on the gentle breezes, their power building with the music, the driving beats and rhythm guiding them through the spins, jumps, and step sequences.

 

Finally, the gentleness returned, and Dany once more found herself in Jon’s arms, completely wrapped up in him, gathering her strength and courage for the more intimate lifts, nuzzling herself into the crook of his arms as together they fought gravity to a draw. Finally, they reached the end, Jon on his knees under her, lifting her to the heavens, wonder and awe alight in his eyes as the last strains of the music faded away, the crowd’s cheers a vague sensation as he lowered her to the ice.

 

Dany’s hands went to her burning face, overwhelmed by the fire in Jon’s eyes. Her skates went out from under her and she slid to the ice on her back, when suddenly she felt Jon’s weight over her. She looked up at him, and didn’t know if it was victory or desire burning in his eyes, but she knew that he was a hair’s breadth from pressing his lips against her own, World Championship and crowds around them be damned. Her own lips parted is surprise as he gathered her to his chest, and for one glorious moment, Dany thought she actually could give in to all of the delightful longings that had been crawling over her for so long. As he lay on top of her on the ice, Dany couldn’t help but think about how his hands had already mapped every portion of her body (professionally, of course) and now, oh how she longed to find out what he could do without it, to find out the delicate strength in the snap of his hips.

 

Jon pulled back, his hands in her hair supporting her head, his eyes searching hers for forgiveness, or permission, which she didn’t know, but then suddenly, she had buried her head in his shoulder, the weight of the ground binding her to her trepidation once more-- the freedom of the skies just out of her grasp.

 

Sound returned, the applause of the crowds washing over her like waves as Jon pulled her to her feet, wrapping his arms around her, lifting her from the ice in a delighted hug, a laugh falling from his lips and covering her like grace. “We did it!” He whispered, leaning close to her as she buried her face in the crook of his neck.

 

“We did.” She whispered back, sweeping out to take their bows and coming back to him as he led her to the Kiss and Cry to await their scores.

 

Their entire team was beside themselves with joy, Dei’s arms wrapped around Grey as she jumped up and down in excitement, Tyrion and Davos both beaming with pride as they settled in for the scores. The wait was interminable, the only constant Jon’s hand in her own, the unheard whispers of hope and promises as the seconds ticked by, until finally-- a season best for Snow/Storm and a score of 159.31. Enough to catapult them far enough into first place that no one would be able to catch them.

 

In the Green Room once the rest of the scores had been announced and the dust settled, a bottle of champagne appeared and the newest World Champions toasted their success, their team, and most of all, each other.

 

“To Dei!” Jon crowed, the lightness in his eyes almost as intoxicating to her as the champagne swirling through her system as he thrust a glass skyward in salute. “May every program she choreograph be as successful on the first try as this one!”

 

Dei smiled. “To Jon and Dany-- without whom my programs would never see the light of day!” Their group cheered raucously, and Tyrion finally tapped on his glass for attention.

 

“To always pursuing your dreams. The trifecta is within your reach, my dears! First Worlds, and then the Grand Prix. Next stop, Barcelona!”

 

Dany laughed and tapped her glass against Jon’s. “To us.” She breathed.

 

Jon wrapped his arm around her waist and clinked his glass to hers in return. “To us.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus, we have reached my true inspiration for this fic. I saw this skate, and my jaw literally dropped to the floor. The talent, skill, and feeling were just so palpable, and then Jon and Dany popped into my mind. And then, the next night, Virtue and Moir won gold in ice dancing, and they were just so damn sexy.
> 
> If you have a few minutes. watch the program here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6bNOnXTe4Ok 
> 
> It's beautiful and absolutely worth your time. Watch after they finish too-- you'll recognize a few moments. <3
> 
> Also, I couldn't figure out for the life of me how to add pics to Ao3, but a HUGE thanks to the lovely and oh so talented @notpmahalem for the moodboard (which is sadly only visible on tumblr until I un-stupid myself and figure out how to add it here). You, my dear are an inspiration. Thank you so much! https://www.tumblr.com/blog/jalenmara


	19. Jon/Dany - ISU Grand Prix 2015

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one we've all been dreading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *passes out tissues like they're going out of style*

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

**JON**

 

Their picture was on a fucking Wheaties box. He didn’t know how Davos had arranged for this particular privilege, but he felt a sense of pride swirl through him, right there in the fucking cereal aisle that simultaneously thrilled him and warmed his heart as he studied the picture they had chosen-- the opening pose from Dei’s  _ La Terre vue du ciel  _ program. He could still feel the weight of Dany’s head as she leaned back into his chest, resting her head slightly against him, the feel of her fingertips curling into his palms. The picture perfectly captured the blaze of determination in her eyes, along with something softer that he couldn’t quite identify.

 

He picked up the box, running his fingers gently over the image of them, and he could feel a smile spread across his face before he could help himself. Even after a few months, the joy of that victory was still close, easily graspable. He could feel the bolt of pride run through him every time he thought of what he and Dany and fought to accomplish, together. The curse was close to breaking, of that he was sure.

 

And Dany… His breath caught in his chest as he studied her picture. She continued to surprise him at every turn-- her fierceness, her capacity for gentleness, her determination even in the face of extreme adversity feeding the growing seeds of attraction. She was beautiful-- he had thought that even before they had formally met-- the legend of her beauty following her throughout her life, but that was only the surface of her. Jon felt his chest constrict at the thought of everything she had entrusted him with, all of her secrets, her joys, her deepest sorrows. She had finally knocked down all of her walls when it came to him, and now was as open as a book to him… If only he could find the courage to return the favor to her, to reveal all of his heart and hidden depths to her. 

 

His fingers clenched around the cereal box as he dropped it into the basket he carried, eager to show it to the team. He hadn’t realized when they won World’s what a roller coaster that victory would prove to be, but Dany had neglected to mention to him that the last couple to win the pairs skating World Championship from the USA had been none other than her parents in 1979. No wonder fucking Wheaties wanted them on their box.

 

His phone buzzed as he continued down the aisle, and he fished it out of his pocket, only to see the name of the woman that had been occupying his thoughts more and more in the recent days, the smile now overtaking his face completely.

 

“I know, I’m late-- but Davos wanted me to pick something up from the store for him. I’ll show you when I get to your place.” He said, throwing toothpaste and the few other items he needed into his basket hurriedly.

 

Dany sighed. “I think I should just meet you at the arena. The paps are back again this morning.”

 

“No.” Jon groaned. The paparazzi had been swarming since their win, and he and Dany had started to take extra precautions to make sure that the press didn’t pick up anything untoward that might damage her already fragile and completely unwarranted reputation. But, the press was like sharks swarming for chum, smelling blood in the water where none existed. (Ok, where very little existed.)

 

“I know.” Her voice was quiet, tired. The stress of the win had taken a toll on her especially it seemed, all of the pressure to reclaim her family’s legacy landing squarely on her shoulders and factoring heavily into every interview they offered. That, combined with her history, and reporters digging even more deeply into their pasts had led to many sleepless nights for them both as they tried to learn to navigate their new reality. Gone were the days of being able to hop between her apartment and his home with none the wiser, and the strain of constantly being under observation was starting to wear on them both.

 

Jon sighed, his frustration building. “So, I’ll show you when we get to the rink.”

 

“Is it a good surprise, at least?” Her voice wavered ever so slightly, and he longed to be able to wrap her in a hug, bolstering her own enormous strength with some of his own.

 

“It is.” He said quietly, running his hands through his curls as he dropped the basket out the checkout counter, ignoring the incredulous look of the cashier as she studied the Wheaties box, and then him as if checking to make sure it was, indeed, the same person. He smiled tightly at the girl, hoping against hope that she wouldn’t make a big deal and that he’d be able to get to the arena quickly.

 

He could feel the relief in Dany’s voice as she exhaled sharply. “Good,” she said. “I’ll see you in a bit then.” There was an odd pause before she rushed on. “Bye, Jon.”

 

“Bye.” He turned back to the cashier as she raised an eyebrow at him.

 

“That you?” She pointed to the box, and for once in his life, Jon wished with everything in him that he had a propensity for lying when at least self-recrimination was on the line. Instead he sighed and nodded, and the girl cocked her head to the side as she studied him, and then the picture once more. “That your girlfriend?”

 

Jon choked on his own spit, coughing to clear his throat at the forward question. At least the reporters tried to be more sly in their own line of questioning. He studied the picture for a moment, his heart caught in his throat. “No,” he finally said softly, fighting to keep the disappointment that rose from deep within the hidden depths of him out of his voice. “She’s not my girlfriend, she’s my partner.”

 

The girl narrowed her eyes at him, before shrugging and bagging the box of cereal. “Uh-huh,” she said incredulously. “Sure she’s not.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

**DANY**

 

He sounded tired. Dany sighed as she hung up the phone. She couldn’t blame him, what with the long days of running their programs over and over, reworking bits that hadn’t quite gone as well as they could, adding new, more difficult elements, and working themselves to the bone for the sake of their art. She peeked out of one of the blinds and looked out at the parking lot of her apartment complex, counting no fewer than six paparazzos she would now need to dodge, and sighed. Every usual respite had been blocked of late. The team hadn’t descended upon Bronn’s in months, the paps had found that one within a month of their win, and even she and Jon carpooling had become a subject of great interest. A series of photographs had run just last week, featuring them both getting in and out of each other’s cars (and thankfully nothing else), and Tyrion had nearly gone apoplectic at it predicting that within a fortnight (yes, he had said fortnight) more and more photographers would descend upon them, rattling the cages until all of their secrets fell out.

 

Dany had never been more annoyed that Tyrion had been proven correct in her life. She valued her privacy, and did everything she could to protect it fiercely. She had lived the nightmare of being in the public spotlight for years, the details of her family trauma and subsequent marriage plastered across the cover of every tabloid for months. While she knew that the press was simply a part of the life she had chosen, there was a difference between offering an interview on her terms, and having her life turned upside down just because a photographer wanted to make a few extra bucks by getting a picture of her in a compromising position.

 

A pitiful mewl caught her attention and she looked down to see Drogon sitting at her feet. She reached down to pet him reassuringly. “It’s ok, my love.” she murmured. “Mama won’t let the big bad people with the cameras find you.”

 

She let herself be comforted for a moment as Drogon nuzzled her hand, pushing his head into her palm as she obliged him with the scritches he so desperately wanted, and (of course) deserved. Finally, she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, grabbing her gym bag and her courage as she gathered her keys and let herself out the front door.

 

Thankfully, while the paps had figured out which apartment building in the complex was hers, they had yet to figure out which apartment was hers exactly, so she was able to make it out to the parking lot before they discovered her.

 

“Daenerys! What’s the story with--”

 

“Are you and Jon--”

 

“How’s the prep for the Grand Prix com--”

 

“When do you leave for Spain?”

 

“Do you have any new progr--”

 

“Are you in love with Jo--”

 

The cacophony was deafening as she scurried past them, throwing herself into her silver as quickly as she could, offering no answers, but her heart hammered in her chest as she threw the car in reverse and honked the horn to warn them to move out of her way, lest she accidentally run them down. Even now, she could feel the flush spreading across her cheeks and chest, hoping that the photographers would think it was exertion from her jog to the car, and not the flash and flame of embarrassment at their more personal questions. She wondered if Jon got the same questions about her. Somehow she doubted it.

 

She took a circuitous route to the arena, stopping at their favorite coffee shop to grab tea for herself and black coffee for Jon. He seemed to like nothing better than the color black, ironic for a man whose last name was Snow. Every article of clothing he wore was black, it was how he took his coffee, and more than once he had joked that it was obviously the color of his soul. She had simply shaken her head at him for that statement, her rebuttal dying behind her closed lips when she realized how vehemently she had meant to oppose him for that thought, for she couldn’t possibly care for him if his soul were as dark as hers. (Lies. She would adore him until the end of her days. Of that she was sure.) He had looked at her curiously, waiting for some response before shrugging and moving on.

 

Dany shook herself out of her reverie, realizing that she had arrived at the arena by rote. A quick check of her surroundings assured her that for the moment, at least, there were no swarms of press, and she could extricate herself from her car lazily instead of with the military precision they had all adopted in the recent months.

 

Gathering her bag in one hand, and the beverages in the other, she shoved her car door open with her foot, and climbed out of the car, before closing the door solidly with her hip. Her keys were dangling from her lips as she turned toward the arena, only to jump in surprise as a horn sounded, and Jon’s jeep slid into the spot beside hers. She smiled around the keys, her heart pattering wildly in her chest at the sight of him. He may have sounded tired on the phone, but he looked rested, the normally dark circles under his eyes clear, allowing the warmth of his gaze to fall on her without distraction.

 

He jumped from the jeep, jogging around to her, and taking the keys from her lips, his fingers brushing against them, and leaving her tingling from her head to the very tips of her toes. She bit her lip to keep the gasp from escaping, raising her face to receive his kiss on the cheek in greeting as he slipped her bag from her shoulder as well.

 

“Morning,” he winked at her, and she laughed, thanking all of the gods for how far they had come.

 

“Morning.” She winked in return, enjoying his sudden intake of breath, his gaze lingering on her face as if he had fully glimpsed her for the first time. She bit back the words she longed to say to him for the second time that morning, the same awkward silence hovering in the air between them until Jon cleared his throat and stepped back to the trunk to grab his own bag. “So, what’s the surprise?”

 

“Ah!” Jon dropped both bags to the concrete before opening the passenger side door and taking out a small grocery bag, and then re-shouldering both gym bags. “I’ll show you inside.”

 

Dany nodded and followed him indoors, taking advantage of her view while she could, her gaze lingering on the way his jeans fell from his hips, hugging the generous curve of his ass just so. She swallowed tightly, unsure when her mouth had become so dry and took a gulp of her tea, fighting down the searing streak of desire that pulsed through her.

 

Oblivious to her, Jon led the way to the weight room, dropping their bags and turning back to her as she held out his morning coffee. “I figured you had your hands full for Davos this morning, so…” her voice trailed off as he reached for the coffee. “Careful, it’s--”

 

“Hot,” he smiled down at her. “Yes, I know.”

 

Dany stared up at him, thoroughly charmed by the carefree man in front of her. He seemed so much lighter today, so free and loose and buoyant. She couldn’t help but smile up at him in return, hiding behind her own cup as she sipped her tea. “So… the surprise?”

 

He said nothing, but instead picked up the grocery bag, reaching inside and bringing the box of cereal out. She cocked her head, confused as she looked from him to orange box he held in his hands. “Afraid I’m not getting enough bran in my diet?” she quipped lightly, her heart soaring as he chuckled.

 

“Not quite.” He said as he turned the box in his hands.

 

Dany felt her knees go out from under her as her eyes and brain caught up to each other at the same time. It wasn’t just any cereal he was holding in his hands, it was a Wheaties box, and on it…. Her eyes flew from the box to his, nearly drowning in the heat of his gaze, the pride shining forth so clearly that she had all she could do not to crush the box between them as threw her arms around him, burying her face in the side of his neck to keep herself from burying her tongue in the depths of his mouth.

 

She pulled back, shocked. “Are you fucking serious?” she breathed.

 

He nodded, his curls bouncing wildly. “I have no idea how Davos did it, but--”

 

She released her clasp on him, her hands trembling as she reached for the box. As far as she knew, a pairs skating couple had never been featured on the cover, and while it was a silly point of pride, Dany couldn’t help but think back to her younger self, often staring longingly and the rows and rows of cereal, promising herself that one day, she too would be heralded as one of the greats of their sport. And now…

 

She traced the picture of them both, her eyes drawn to him as they always were, the gentleness in his gaze breathtaking, the care and devotion pouring out of him so clearly that she again had to stifle to urge thread her fingers through his curls, bringing his so kissably soft lips down upon her own. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes as she finally brought her head up to regard him in the flesh once more. He was studying her thoughtfully, so wrapped in his own thoughts that he didn’t hear as Tyrion and Dei came into the room, ready to greet the day.

 

Blinking fiercely, she turned the box in her hands, Dei’s squeal of delight deafening, jerking Jon out of whatever quiet reverie he had retreated to. 

 

“Ah, good.” Tyrion stated, his arms folded over his chest. “Davos got the timing just right.”

 

“Timing?” Jon asked, his gaze finally tearing from her face and landing on that of their coach.

 

Tyrion nodded. “We wanted to build momentum going into the Grand Prix next week. After last week’s paparazzi shots, we had to come up with something impressive.”

 

Dany glared at Tyrion who simply shrugged and motioned for them to start warming up. “Time to get to work-- the new lift isn’t going to perfect itself.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

**JON**

 

They were ready. 

 

He almost couldn’t believe it, but with the season now rapidly coming to a close, only one competition left on the docket, he could finally say it without hesitation. He glanced around his living room once more, checking for anything that he might have forgotten, seeing nothing out of place, but still sometimes taken aback by the newness of his surroundings. His home was finally that-- his own. Sansa had helped with paint swatches and an artistic eye as he had slowly transformed what had become a hole of grief into a home to be appreciated and enjoyed. He took in the newly painted walls-- green, a dream of spring and growth and life and hope, and smiled. 

 

Ygritte’s pictures no longer covered most surfaces of his home. Instead, only a group picture of their time together remained, the rest passed on to her family who appreciated the gesture and the glimpses into her life before she had passed. The rest of the living room was littered with pictures of his family-- his cousins, his aunt and uncle, his mother… She had been beautiful, and Jon was glad that he had taken after her, and not whoever his father had been.

 

There was also another group picture in the center of his mantle, a housewarming gift from Dany, framed and perfect. It had been taken at the surprise party that Bronn had thrown them after their victory at World’s. The entire team stood at the bar, laughing-- even Jorah and Grey taking a moment to be carefree. Davos had thrown an arm around Dei, and Tyrion was toasting them all. Dany was front and center-- looking directly into the camera, her face transported in her joy, and he could hear her laugh through the picture even now. He couldn’t take his eyes off her now, or then-- the him in the picture staring at her instead of the camera, the look of awe on his face spelling out everything that his heart refused to admit to, even now.

 

The soft knock at his door sounded, and Jon whistled for Ghost who descended the stairs two at a time, dancing about anxiously as he opened the front door for his dog’s favorite to cross the threshold. Ghost threw himself headlong into Dany, nearly bowling her over in his excitement.

 

“Well, hi boy!” she giggled as she fought to stay upright against Ghosts 80 pounds of pure muscle, his tail wagging uncontrollably and slapping Jon’s legs repeatedly. 

 

“Traitor.” Jon said, biting back a wide grin as Dany laughed and knelt to assure Ghost that he was no such thing. “Anyone follow you?”

 

Dany shook her head, burying her face in Ghost’s soft mane. “I checked, but I think they all just figured I was heading to the airport, so they let me go.”

 

“Keys?”

 

She reached for her keys and tossed them to him. Jon caught them deftly as she went on. “Thanks for letting me park the silver in your garage while we’re gone. The forecast is calling for a lot of snow, and I didn’t feel like digging her out either at my place, or the airport.”

 

Jon nodded. “Sure thing. The garage is already open, so I’ll pull it around and be back in a minute.”

 

“Can you grab the equipment bag out of the trunk? I managed everything else.” She motioned to the bags behind her on the porch, and Jon grabbed them and moved them inside before closing the door behind him and jogging quickly to the car, hoping that the paps that had been haunting Dany’s place truly hadn’t followed her here. He’d been lucky so far, reporters had only approached him in public, not violating his privacy in the same way they did Dany’s. He bristled at the thought, wondering at the strength that lie within his partner once more.

 

He made quick work of the parking and grabbed her last bag out of the trunk, letting himself back inside to find Dany and Ghost in the same position he had left them. “You ready?” he said as he pulled out his phone. “Uber can be here in 5 minutes.”

 

Dany nodded and stood from her crouch, keeping her hand on Ghost’s head. “Has he been feeling ok?” She asked, her eyebrows knitting together in concern.

 

Jon glanced down at Ghost, and then back up to Dany. “Yeah, he’s been fine. Why?”

 

“He keeps pawing at me and whining every time I try to step away.” To demonstrate, she dropped her hand from Ghost’s head and took a step toward Jon. Ghost immediately lowered his ears and whined, reaching up with his paw to nudge Dany’s leg back toward him.

 

Jon blinked, taken aback at his dog’s behavior. His whine continued until Dany knelt next to him one more, her hands ruffling his fur behind his ears. “It’s ok, boy. We’ll be back in just a few weeks. Auntie Sansa is going to come and pick you up soon.” She looked up to Jon, concern pouring from her eyes. “Right?”

 

“Aye.” Jon nodded. “She was going to pick him up last night, but something came up last minute. She wanted to try to get here in time to wish us luck before she left, but got caught in traffic on the far side of Boston.” His phone dinged in his hand. “Car’s here.” he said, as he stooped to grab Ghost by the muzzle, bringing his head in for a quick kiss. “We’ll be back soon, and then you can officially tell Dany she’s your favorite when we get back.”

 

Dany pressed a kiss to Ghost’s muzzle as well, their hands tangling for a moment in Ghost’s fur before she pulled back abruptly and stood, reaching for her bags. Ghost barked, and they both jumped in surprise, the fur on the back of his neck rising as he moved to stand between Dany and the door. “Jon?” Dany’s voice was soft, but the quiver was apparent as she took a step back.

 

“Ghost!” Jon snapped his fingers, shocked at his behavior. “Sit.” There was a moment of tense silence before Ghost obeyed his master’s command, and Jon heard Dany let out a deep exhale behind him. “What’s gotten into you, buddy? Sansa will be here in an hour, and then you’ll have a few weeks of running through the woods, and the pond.” He dropped to his knees beside the beast once more, looking him over for any sign of injury or sickness, but finding none. “Hey.” he said softly, motioning to Dany over his shoulder. “She’ll miss you too, promise.”

 

A horn sounded from the front of the house, and Jon stood, shouldering Dany’s equipment bag and grabbing the rest of his things as Dany picked up her suitcase and purse. “Be a good boy.” She said as Ghost wagged his tail at her, another whine building low in his throat.

 

Jon snapped at him once more as Ghost surged to his feet, trying to get between Dany and the door. “Ghost! Sit. Stay.” For a moment it looked as if Ghost might disobey him, but finally, he sat with a deep sigh, his red eyes never leaving Dany. “Be good for Sansa, buddy. Love you.”

 

Jon motioned for Dany to proceed him out the door and to the car, watching his best friend carefully, but only the whine of distress followed them. Jon moved to close the door, bending down to look Ghost in the eyes one more time before closing and locking the door. “I’ll take good care of her. I promise.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

**DANY**

 

Barcelona was beautiful. The week leading up to the ISU Grand Prix had gone by in a flash. Once they had landed in Barcelona, Dany insisted that Jon call Sansa right away to make sure that Ghost was all right and had returned to his normal, loveable self. Sansa admitted that he had seemed a little melancholy upon her arrival, but once she got him in the car and headed back towards the family home, she said he had perked right up, and was now roaming happily through the acreage behind the house, right as rain.

 

She and Jon both had heaved a sigh of relief, most of their flight spent in concern for Jon’s canine companion. Now, they could focus on what they had come to Spain to accomplish-- win the Grand Prix and knock out the second notch on their Trifecta. Dei and Tyrion were especially harsh task masters, running them through the programs tirelessly, leaving Davos to be the font of encouragement they both needed.

 

But now, the competition was here. 

 

The familiar rush of excitement poured over them both as they went through their final warm ups for the Short Program. Jon’s hand was firm, but clammy in her own-- or was it the other way around? Dany wasn’t sure, but she knew that if she didn’t do something soon, she would be beside herself with desire and affection, all of her adoration pouring out for whoever was present to see.

 

She had nearly kissed him again in his foyer, their hands tangling in Ghost’s fur, and only her concern for Ghost’s health had stifled that want. But here they were, about to perform yet again, inviting an audience into their very souls, and she had all she could do to not wrap herself around him, and consume him, body and soul. She glanced over at her partner, his eyes closed, but lips moving as he went over the program once more in his head, his face pinched so tightly in concentration she had to laugh. 

 

And then suddenly, the truth of it all came in like the wind, and she was helpless to stand against the desires of her heart. Gods, she  _ loved _ this man. His quiet, solid strength, his generous giving nature, his protectiveness, his artistry, his talent. She couldn’t keep herself from him anymore than she could stand against the tides. This was the time-- she didn’t know how she knew it, but some small voice whispered “Now…” and she was powerless to fight it.

 

“Jon.” Her voice was breathless. “You’re far away.”

 

He cracked an eyelid, peering down at her as she smiled up at him, and grasped his hand. She could barely breathe as her fingers slid up his arm and she fought to keep her hands from trembling, delighting in the knowledge that he was about to know all of her. Her deepest longings, her dreams, her desire to make him hers. She lightly traced the scar above his right eye, his breath catching as he glanced down at her, and Dany finally let him truly see her for who she was-- the good, the bad, and everything in between.

 

She took a shuddering breath as her words caught in her throat. Everything inside of her screamed for her to say it, to say the three little words that had been haunting her for days, months, years. But words were wind--  and nothing but a screeching silence passed her lips. Her tongue peeked out to wet them, and she swallowed tightly, an eternity passing in the blink of an eye. Finally, she reached up gently to cup his cheeks her hands, her eyes searching his until her eyelids fluttered closed and she brought her lips to his so gently for a moment she feared she had missed.

 

But no-- the softest breath poured over her face, her hands wrapped in his curls as she brought his head down to meet hers. He tasted of mint and new beginnings, the unique scent of Jon flowing over her senses, grounding her to him, binding her even more tightly than she had been before, her soul now achingly wrapped up in his. He pulled back slightly, his bewildered gaze searching her own as he dropped his forehead against hers, his hands confused as to what to do, or where to land. She longed to pull him back down to her and lose herself fully within him, but a gentle cough pulled her up short and she stepped back, seeing Dei over Jon’s shoulder.

 

Dei looked fit to burst, but flashed two fingers at her and discretely moved away. Jon still had his eyes closed, and Dany couldn’t help but press herself against him once more, her hands caressing his cheeks before she stepped back and and her tongue finally unlocked long enough to whisper “For luck.”

 

He looked so thunderstruck she had to laugh gently, her heart full to bursting as she led him out toward the ice. He shook his head-- once, twice, like a dog who had run into a tree that had “jumped” out in front of him, and his hand in her grasp tightened, bringing her up short. “Dany….” He groaned, the desire in his voice nearly causing her knees to buckle.

 

“Soon.” She promised, tugging on his hand to keep him moving forward. They would talk (or let their bodies do the talking for them) about it all, and soon, but first, warm ups had to conclude, the Short Program now looming in the forefront of her mind. Tyrion, Dei, and Davos were all waiting at the wall for them, and Tyrion clapped his hands to get their attention.

 

“All right, you two, focus.” Dany nodded, glancing sideways at Jon, a smile playing at the corner of her lips. He still looked a bit dazed, a bit awed, but he shook his head forcibly again and Tyrion grimaced. “You’re still a bit shaky on the hand to hand loop lift, so run it again now.” 

 

Dany nodded, and reached for Jon’s hand, squeezing it warmly in her own, her smile bright and her delight spilling out for them all to see. She took off her skate guards and handed them to Dei, stepping out onto the ice with the other couples, waiting for Jon as they joined the rotation. The ice was a bit rough. It had been a long day of competition, and the zaboni wouldn’t clear the ice until after their warm up session. Jon cleared his throat and she glanced up at him shyly. “Hi.” 

 

“Hi.” He said, his hand warm and strong in her own, the shock wearing off and an incredible warmth flooding his gaze. She took a deep breath as he smiled down at her, and she laughed freely, his deep chuckle following her lead.

 

“Shall we, my lord?” She grinned up at him, her heart light and full of all the dreams she had never allowed herself to even fathom.

 

“As my queen commands.” He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of it, the crowd tittering in response as the circled the rink. Their music came on, signaling their turn to use the full range of the ice for their warm up, and Jon shifted her left hand to his right, flying backwards across the ice, building up speed until finally, she was airborne, her hand clasped tightly in his own. There was a shift as he turned, and she reached out her right hand for his left, only to find that his hand wasn’t where she had expected, her hand grasping at the empty air as she faintly heard the crowd gasp.

 

Then, she was falling. Her own gasp never left her lips as she careened off into the darkness, falling. 

 

Falling... 

 

Falling....

 

...

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

**JON**

 

His ears were ringing, and his hands clenched involuntarily. Confused, Jon sat up slowly, groaning against the pain in his ankle. His foot must have caught in a groove, and Dany--

 

It was strange… the only thing he could see was the emptiness of his hands, staring at them as if they had somehow betrayed him more deeply than he could ever know. His fingers opened and closed, moving under his watchful gaze. Why were they empty? He must have fallen, and Dany--

 

Full awareness returned-- the screams of the crowd, a metallic taste filling his mouth and nose. He looked up, the ice surrounding him turning a reddish-pink for reasons he couldn’t understand. And then he saw her-- her blonde braids sprawled out over the ice, her eyes closed as if she were sleeping.

 

And the blood. It poured from her scalp, soaking into her hair, and down the side of her pale cheek, covering the lips that had just pressed against his own for the first time no more than ten minutes ago, and now-- 

 

Now she was--

 

Now--

 

Oh dear gods, now she was limp in his arms as he crawled to her, her name spilling from his lips over and over again, apologizing, begging her to wake up, to return to him, but the blood was still seeping and his hands were red and she wouldn’t open her eyes and she seemed to weigh more than she ever had before. Now her head was lolling back over his arms and her face was wet and his face was wet and the tears wouldn’t stop and he couldn’t see he couldn’t breathe as he gathered her to his chest.

 

What had happened? 

 

It all happened too fast, this entire sequence had happened too fast and he was reeling, this couldn’t possibly be real, he must be dreaming, but in his dreams he always saw her, he always saw her whole and healthy and loving and delightful, as she had been from the first moment he saw her from the first moment he handed her tea from the first moment they had ever shared a drink at Bronn’s. Her beautiful face as she spoke of her son through her tears the feel of her hair as he wound it around his fingers the heave of her chest as her silent sobs had racked her body and he had pulled her closer to him than ever before. 

 

Her heart and his beating as one, and now, now she was…

 

She was…

 

She was hurt. 

 

This was an emergency. She needed protecting. He struggled to his feet, his grasp on her slipping in all the blood. Gods, why was there so much blood, why was no one coming to help them, why--

 

“Direwolf.” he whispered. A long buried memory unearthing. 

 

At the first sign of trouble, what do you say, Direwolf. 

 

“Direwolf.”

 

She had always been fearless.

 

“Direwolf.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all. I need so many hugs. I know you probably do too. So, I'll just be in the corner sobbing and wondering why my mind tells these kind of stories.
> 
> Epilogue coming next week with so much fluff. I promise. <3


	20. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This final chapter is dedicated to all of my readers-- the ones who have lurked, the ones who have left kudos, the ones who have left comments, the ones who have become friends. While I write this for myself, I could not have done this without each and every one of you.
> 
> And also to @notpmahalem, for her lovely art, gorgeous spirit, and generosity. <3 The moodboard is all hers, and I couldn't be happier with it. Thank you, my friend!

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“... Rilla heard distinctly a dog howling in a melancholy way down in the direction of the station. Was it Dog Monday? And if it were, why was he howling like that? Rilla shivered; the sound had something boding and grievous in it. She remembered that Miss Oliver said once, when they were coming home in the darkness and heard a dog howl, "When a dog cries like that the Angel of Death is passing." Rilla listened with a curdling fear at her heart. It was Dog Monday--she felt sure of it. Whose dirge was he howling--to whose spirit was he sending that anguished greeting and farewell?” 

\--  _ Rilla of Ingleside _ , by Lucy Maud Montgomery

 

"There is only one god, and His name is Death. And there is only one thing we say to Death: 'not today'." 

\--Syrio Forel

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

**2018**

**1 week before the Opening Ceremonies**

 

“You’re sure she can come off the ventilator?” Jon fought the urge to hold his breath, stealing a glance at Dany over Dr. Tarly’s shoulder. She still looked so small and pale, but he knew the strength that lay within her, and even now he felt a flutter of hope within his chest that he tried to tamp down before it blossomed into something he could not control.

 

Tarly nodded slowly. “She’s been showing signs of breathing over it, and has performed well with the weaning process, so it’s time to take it out.”

 

Dei stood at Jon’s shoulder, just as tense as he felt. “Does this mean you expect her to wake up soon?” That same flutter hid well within Dei’s voice as well, only the slightest hint of a tremble as she folded her arms across her middle.

 

“Well…” Dr. Tarly held up his hands. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Dany here has been making significant progress, haven’t you now, Dany?” He patted her leg affectionately before turning back to Dei and Jon. “However, I would rather not get your hopes up with promises that may or may not come true. I’ll simply say what I’ve been saying for the last few months. She will wake up when she’s ready.”

 

Jon sighed and glanced at Dei, the doubt clear in her eyes, and fought down the urge to ask what they would do if it became obvious she would never be ready. 

 

_ No. _

 

He couldn’t think such things. Dany was depending on him to be her rock, her courage for when she couldn’t gather it herself. He squared his shoulders and looked to Dei once more, her golden eyes completely focused on Dany. Finally, she lifted her gaze to Jon and placed a comforting hand on his forearm. “Ok then,” she breathed. “Let’s do it.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

It was so quiet. Somehow, without the ventilator even the beeping of the various other machines had softened, and if he held his own breath, he could hear the gentle sounds of Dany’s inhales and exhales. Dei sat across from him, holding Dany’s other hand as they simply watched her breathe on her own-- a sight they had not been privileged enough to see in two years. A sight that they didn’t even realize they had missed so wholly and completely until they saw it again, and a collective sigh of relief had overtaken them both.

 

“Jon,” Dei’s soft voice startled him, drawing his gaze from Dany’s face, relaxed in repose to focus on Dei once more. “Will you hate me if I don’t go next week?” The Olympics. Jon’s heart crashed against his ribs in a sudden panic. “I just feel like I’m needed here.”

 

Jon fought through the waves of anxiety threatening to overtake him. He was being selfish. Of course, Dei needed to stay here, needed to be with Dany, needed to make sure that someone she cared about was here while Jon was off living her dream. If it couldn’t be him; it needed to be Dei. He took a deep breath, shaking off some of the apprehension. “She needs you more than I do.”

 

Dei let out the breath she had been holding. “She does.” Her warm, golden eyes fell on him once more, every bit as wise and discerning as always, seeing through all the miasma to the core of him. Of them both. “You know she’ll want to see it though. When she wakes up.”

 

Jon nodded, his gaze falling on Dany once more, unable to trust his own voice to respond. She was still pale, but her cheeks looked a little pinker this afternoon. He wondered if Dei had put blush on her today as she occasionally did. Sometimes her eyelids fluttered as her eyes moved behind the closed lids, but not this evening-- even Dany’s dreams had gone silent it seemed. He would have to live them for them both.

 

“You should video everything-- especially the Ceremony.” Dei continued. “She’ll be so happy for you, and sad to have missed it. The videos will help.”

 

“Or make everything worse.” The words escaped before Jon could catch and cage them behind his tongue.

 

“Jon,” Dei chided softly. “If you think that Dany would ever begrudge you of this opportunity, then you really don’t know her as well as you think you do.”

 

Jon sucked in a breath at the implication, the defensiveness gathering in the tension of his face before he looked to Dany once more, and all his anger and animosity fled. “I know.” He finally said softly, gathering her limp fingers in his, threading their hands together and stroking the back of her hand as gently as possible, still afraid after all this time that he would hurt her again, that everything would come crashing down around his ears because of him.

 

“She would want you to live your life, Jon.” He couldn’t bring himself to meet Dei’s eyes, the sympathy in her voice enough to set him on the edge of tears. “Go. Enjoy, have fun if you can. Win. For her. But, mostly for you.” 

 

Dei stood, sensing the brink he was quickly approaching and gathered her coat. “I’m going to take off for the evening.” She said. “You ok to stay until visiting hours are over?”

 

Jon nodded, still not trusting his voice, but raised his free hand to Dei, grasping her long, cool fingers and squeezing them gently, putting all the gratitude he could muster into his gaze. Dei gripped his hand back, her grace and strength straightening her spine. “Promise her, Jon.” She said softly. “Promise her that you’ll find a way to live, a way to be free.”

 

Dei left without another word, closing the door to Room 333 quietly behind her, the dull click resounding in the quiet. Jon dropped his forehead to their joined hands, overwhelmed by all the thoughts swirling in his heart and mind, too fast for him to be able to grasp or examine.

 

On thing was clear, however.

 

“I’ll never be free without you.” He whispered into the growing darkness. “I may be able to find a way to go on-- to live, but freedom?” His breath huffed out in a brittle laugh. “Not a chance, Storm.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

A hand on his back jerked him awake. “Dany?” Jon bolted upright, his hands scrambling for her fingers, her face, anything that he could touch, that he could anchor himself to, wildly disappointed when he came to enough to realize that it was not Dany’s gentle caress that had woken him, but Gilly’s.

 

“I’m sorry, Jon.” She murmured quietly, her eyes wide with surprise. “You fell asleep, and I was just coming to wake you. Visiting hours are almost over, and Dany needs rest. She’s had a busy day.”

 

Jon had to bite back a bitter laugh at that-- the thought that Dany needed rest striking a dark note of humor within him. He composed himself, reaching for the vast reservoirs of calm within him. “Of course. I just need a few minutes to pack up.”

 

Gilly nodded. “When do you leave for South Korea?”

 

“Day after tomorrow.” Jon said, his hands stilling as he reached for his backpack, his gaze resting on Dany once more, her white blond hair now almost to her shoulders.

 

“So, this is goodbye then? You don’t normally come in on Mondays.” Gilly’s voice sounded far away.

 

He nodded tightly, once more thanking all the gods that they had found Dr. Tarly and his team. If he couldn’t be here for her, it was good at least to know that he was leaving her in responsible, capable, observant hands. 

 

Gilly smiled sadly at him. “How about I give you a few extra minutes?” She said, backing towards the door. “I have a few other patients to check up on.”

 

Jon didn’t reply as Gilly left, sinking back into the chair he had just vacated, not prepared for this-- not prepared to say goodbye, to fly off to the ends of the earth without her. He found himself thinking over their last moments together, how full of hope and affection she had been, practically brimming over with her delight. She had torn into his life like a thunderclap, and he had been powerless to stand before the tempest that was Dany Storm.

 

He hand went to her hair, the silkiness of it flowing over his fingers like water. “Dany,” he said softly. “If there was ever a moment to pull a miracle recovery, this would be it.”

 

He held his breath in vain, knowing that she wouldn’t respond, but couldn’t help the frisson of hope that trailed down the length of his spine. His fingers wound around the gentle curl of her hair, his thumb dropping to her cheek. Her lips, so full and pink opened slightly on her next breath and Jon found himself fixated, both feet bolted to the floor, unable to move even if he had wanted to.

 

_ We’ve tried everything we can think of… All we can do now is wait… Maybe she’s just waiting on True Love’s kiss… _

 

Before he even knew what he was doing, he stood, leaning over her, wishing desperately that this would be the moment, that everything in his heart that he was unable to say would somehow reach her subconscious. His mind to hers, their thoughts aligning and converging, their hearts beating as one. She had kissed him once. “For luck…” she had said, but he had known better.

 

He had been a fool all this time. She loved him. And he loved her-- he had just been too cowardly to admit it, to see it, to give in to everything that would have made him whole. He had known it then, had wanted desperately to crush her lithe body to his, to explore the depths of her clever mouth and tongue, to unfold her beneath him like the flower she was, to discover firsthand the strength of her sighs. And instead-- he had failed her.

 

He would not fail her again.

 

He still couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud, feeling as if something about that carried a heavier curse than that which he already held within his heart, but knew that she would want to be present in all ways for the first time those words passed either of their lips.

 

And so, he would have to rest in hope. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, Dany. I can’t promise to live and be free, but I can promise to return to your side as soon as I am able.  _ That _ , is what I promise you.”

 

Jon lifted her head from the pillow ever so gently, and brought his lips to press firmly against her own sealing his vow with a chaste kiss. She tasted of strawberries, the smell of her lavender lotion swirling in his brain as he feathered a hand against her cheek. “We’ll find a way to beat this-- together.”

 

But, until he could return to her side, he would have to find a way to face this world. And he would have to do it alone.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

**Men’s Free Skate** **  
** **XXIII Olympic Winter Games**

 

“Men’s Final: Group 4 to the ice, please. Men’s Final: Group 4 to the ice please.” The pleasant, disembodied voice of the announcer sounded over the loudspeaker system, a startling opposite to the heavy backstage atmosphere that surged to immediate cacophony as the final group of skaters lurched to their feet as one. Coaches, choreographers, competitors and the like all now brimming with last minute advice, well wishes, and in the instance of one unfortunate skater from the tiny country of Volantis, vomit.

 

Nerves. They were everywhere. You could trip on them like a livewire and  watch your dreams die before you even had time to draw your next breath. But then again, this was the Olympic Games. One could hardly expect anything to be easy when the entire world was watching, especially with a gold medal on the line.

 

Jon lifted his head from where it had been lightly resting in his hands, reflexively reaching for Dany’s hand to relieve some of his nerves and feeling the resounding emptiness within him, echoing wildly. He took a deep breath to steady himself, reached down to tighten the laces to his skates, and took his place in line among the other skaters as the final group was called to the ice.

 

“Snow.” He turned as Tyrion’s voice sounded in his ears, and lifted an eyebrow. “Breathe,” he continued. “It’s just the warm-up. The hard part comes later.” 

 

Jon nodded once, trying desperately not to think of another warm-up not so long ago, opening his mouth to reply before Tyrion cut him off again with a surprisingly gentle hand to his forearm. Jon glanced down at Tyrion, surprised to see actual seriousness in his eyes. “You’re in your head. I can see it.”

 

Jon sighed. “Yes.” There was little use in denying it.

 

Tyrion pursed his lips. “Go land a fucking quad loop. That will either clear it, or not. If it does, great. If not, well, we have 45 minutes to snap you the fuck out of it.”

 

The official escorting their group turned to fasten Tyrion with a level of side-eye that even Dany would have been proud of, and Jon felt his heart clench at the sight of it, once more wishing that she could be here, taking her rightful place at his side. 

 

“Right, right. International decorum and all that.” Tyrion waived the official off, but his hand tightened on Jon’s forearm, finally tugging on it, so that he had Jon’s undivided attention. “I know that we agreed not to speak of--”

 

“We did.” Jon interrupted, knowing that while Dany may reside beneath the surface of his heart, if Tyrion were to invoke her right now, he may never be able to pull himself together in time to perform. Tyrion had to know that this was all for her--

 

Tyrion’s shrewd gaze always unnerved him, even more so now that he was moments away from his final Free Skate, but something in his eyes softened. “My boy--” the pain cracking through his tone did nothing to settle Jon’s nerves in this moment. “You know that she would want--”

 

“I know.” Jon clenched his jaw stubbornly.

 

_ No. _

 

“Tyrion- I can’t.” Jon peeled Tyrion’s fingers from his arm as gently as he could. “I know you’re trying to help, but this-- this isn’t the way.”

 

“United States?” the official from before crossed purposefully to them, “We have a call--”

 

“We’ll talk about it after.” Jon said, definitively ending the conversation by removing his skate guards and handing them to the PA assigned to the US skating team before stepping out onto the ice.

 

It was electric.

 

It never ceased to amaze him how the thrill of competition could change the molecules of air around you, simultaneously making it harder to breathe and causing your entire nervous system to speed up in response. Breath, heart, pulse, everything pounding in one deafening rhythm that could easily carry you into madness, if you let it. She had taught him how to harness the quietness of the moments between. Those were the moments that contained the actual competitive fire and glory. The moments where you ceased to be, and became one with the drive inside of you.

 

All Jon knew is that this was finally his time. His moment. She would make sure it was so. He didn’t know how he knew it, but he could feel her as steadily as a sunbeam, the warmth of her presence enveloping him from half a world away.

 

Curse be damned.

 

To settle back within himself, Jon pushed off, gliding clockwise around the ice, taking his place in the jump rotations. As he had pulled the coveted last position that his first place finish in the Short Program had afforded him, that meant he would be skating directly after the other gold medal favorite from Japan, Yuzuru Hanyu, currently sitting in 2nd place. With every lap, he came back a bit more to himself, breathing steadily, and trying to ignore the fact that his hands felt empty, wanting.

 

Someday that feeling would go away. Someday she would return to him.

 

Yuzuru finished his jump pass, and Jon accelerated, eager to prove to these competitors, these judges, this audience, that his Short Program win had not been a fluke (as many felt), and that he deserved a place here in this pantheon. He felt the same single minded concentration drop over him as he approached his quad toe-loop, planting his toe-pick into the ice at just the right moment to launch himself into the air, pulling his arms to his chest in a tight x as he rotated, all of it over in a blink of an eye as he came to land cleanly on his right foot. He was dimly aware of the crowd’s surge of energy as he rejoined the rotation, resuming his laps of the ice.

 

He could do this. He would break this curse. He would do it all.

 

Confident that he was ready, he skated to the wall, reaching for his bottle of water and taking a pull as he idly searched for Tyrion who was, oddly, nowhere to be found. With a shrug, Jon turned to face the arena, taking a moment to bask in the reality that had become his life. He never would have guessed that he would ever be here, mere moments away from his final skate in his first Olympics. He felt a fierce pride sear through him, and smiled, somehow sensing that the pride didn’t solely belong to him, but to Dany as well.

 

A hesitant tap on his elbow had him turning, Tyrion’s gray face sucking all the air from his lungs, the hand holding a cordless phone trembling violently. Jon threw himself over the wall without thinking, no time to glide to the proper entrance, his heart in his throat and the panic now complete as Tyrion shook his head wildly, unable to speak. 

 

She was gone. 

 

He knew it. There was only one reason for which Tyrion would shatter his concentration before such a momentous skate, knowing that Jon would most likely murder him with his bare hands if he found that Tyrion had kept something of this magnitude from him. Dimly he heard people shouting as Tyrion collapsed to the ground beside him, and out of the corner of his eye, Jon saw Davos sprinting towards them as fast as his legs could carry him.

 

He wrenched the phone out of Tyrion’s grasp, fighting the urge to smash it against the ground so that he could live in his state of denial for as long as possible. He could feel his grip on reality shattering, the last of his strength leaving him as he clawed wildly at his throat to loosen the collar of his costume, trying to swallow down the debilitating fear long enough to take in a breath.

 

Vaguely, he could hear a tinny feminine voice-- “Jon? Jon-- are you there?”

 

Dei. Dei was on the phone, calling to break the news at the worst possible time. Jon scrubbed his face with his hands, trying to gather himself to hear the news for certain, some part of him wildly shoving the idea that she was truly gone as far and away from him as possible. 

 

His face was wet, tears he didn’t even know he was shedding slipping down his cheeks as he grappled with the phone, somehow forgetting how even the most basic of technology seemed to work. “Jon?” Her voice continued, Dei somehow sounding like Dany in his shock-- his mind so firmly rejecting the idea that she could be gone that he was starting to hear things.

 

He took a deep, shuddering breath, finally steeling himself long enough to lift the phone to his ear. “Dei?” His voice cracked violently, and he had to pull the phone away from a moment, Tyrion’s eyes rolling wildly in his head as Davos finally reached them, dropping to his knees in such a way that Jon had to wonder if he would be able to walk out of here again.

 

“Is it Dany?” He rasped out, both hands gripping Jon’s upper arms so tightly he would have bruises the next morning.

 

“Yes.” The tinny female voice in his hands said, and Jon broke completely, his sobs wracking his body as he lifted the phone to his ear once more.

 

“Dei, what happened? She was fine when we left-- she was doing bet--”

 

“Jon Snow.” The voice fought to be heard over his, scratchy and tired and sore, but  _ not _ Dei’s voice. “I need for you to breathe. Do you understand me?”

 

He reared back as if slapped, a breath reflexively sneaking in. “Go on,” she said, every word a soothing balm to his battered soul. “That’s it, breathe.”

 

It was the voice he heard in his dreams--  _ Storms cannot break me, Jon Snow… _

 

It was the voice he heard in his fantasies, in his imagination, in his altered realities. “Dany?” His voice broke and the tears started anew.

 

There was a moment's pause from the other end of the phone, and he could hear the tears against the hope in her voice as well. “Hi, stranger.” Dany whispered.

 

The phone crashed to the floor.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

_ “In a miraculous, yet improbable occurrence-- gold medal favorite, Jon Snow, did not appear on the ice for his Free Skate program last night. He received a phone call minutes before he was to skate last (a favored position, almost guaranteeing him a gold medal with his planned, record setting 7 quad performance), but the annals of history will never tell of what could have been. On the phone was his Pairs Skating partner of the past 5 years (Dany Storm), having just awoken from her coma caused by an on-ice accident in December of 2015. She called to wish him well, and to let him know that she was cheering him on from her hospital room in Massachusetts. Little did she know that the mere sound of her voice would spur Snow to do something utterly unthinkable- abandon his chances at a gold medal, and withdraw immediately from the international competition. Our cameras caught up with him briefly--” _

 

A hand shoved the camera roughly before a disembodied voice said “Get that camera out of my * _ bleep* _ face.” 

 

The camera jostled wildly, the comotion building before the pallid face of Tyrion Lannister appeared. “We have no statement to make at this time, however, we do believe that most fans of our artistic sport will be ecstatic as to the reasoning when it is ready to be revealed.”

 

Dei clucked her tongue as she turned off the television. “Tyrion has looked better, no? I think you shaved at least ten years off his life.”

 

Dany giggled, gasping at the flash of pain and soreness it caused and groaned. “You were the one that told me not to wait.” She rasped, her throat still sore and recovering from the years of ventilation and intubation. She dropped her head back onto the pillow at the thought.

 

Years. She had lost  _ years _ .

 

And, her impetuousness had cost Jon a gold medal. She might never forgive herself for that. The tears that seemed to reside permanently behind her eyelids now threatened again, and she tried to raise a trembling hand to her face, cursing the lost strength. Dei quickly scrambled for a tissue, wiping her eyes as she regarded her with sympathy. “Try to remember what Dr. Tarly said. Recovery takes time.”

 

“I know.” Dany whispered, wishing she knew how to put into words everything that she was feeling. Her frustration, her confusion, her hurt, her hope, her love… To her, it seemed as if she had taken too long of a nap. She had woken up confused and even more exhausted than when she had gone to sleep, only she didn’t remember laying down for a nap.

 

A redheaded woman she didn't know had been the first to discover her, and she had scurried from the room as quickly as she had entered screaming for someone. “Sam!!” Her shrill voice echoed in the small room and Dany winced. She would have panicked immediately, but the room seemed so cozy and familiar somehow. A picture of her kittens faced her on the bedside table, her favorite blanket covering her lap, her favorite books stacked next to the picture of her cats, the scent of her favorite lotion on the air.

 

The next few hours had been a whirl of motion and tests. “How do you feel?” (Tired and sore. Where am I?) “Can you wiggle your toes for me?” (Yes, but why is this so hard?) “What day is it?” (Saturday?) “Who is the president of the United States of America.” (Barack Obama, duh.)

 

Finally Dei had burst into the room, and all the bravery Dany had tried to muster since she had awoken shattered and she burst into tears as Dei ran to her, enveloping her in her strong, comforting arms as they cried together. 

 

And then the news-- “There was an accident at the Grand Prix. What’s the last thing that you remember?”

 

Dany could feel her cheeks heat.  _ Jon _ . She remembered Jon… The searing warmth of his gaze, the promise in his eyes.  _ Soon, my love _ . She cleared her throat, trying to force the words past still sleepy vocal chords. “I remember you giving us a 2 minute warning.” She said, Dei’s knowing gaze landing on her as she tried not to think about the whisper of a kiss with which she had left them both wanting.

 

“Do you remember falling?” Dany cocked her head to the side, grappling for the guardrail on the bed as she felt the world list to the side. She closed her eyes for a moment, regathering her equilibrium as she forced her eyes back open.

 

“No.” She said carefully. His eyes were the last thing she remembered, truly. The warmth of him enveloping her like a cocoon, floating on the joy that she found there.

 

Dei looked to Dr. Tarly, and he nodded slightly. Dei licked her lips and continued. “Dany, there’s no easy way to tell you this, so I’m just going to say it, ok?”

 

Dany nodded, her panic rising again. It was Jon, wasn’t it? Something had gone wrong, and it was the reason he wasn’t here by her side. Dei gripped her hand tightly and took a deep breath before continuing. “You and Jon both fell during the warm-ups at the Grand Prix. Jon recovered-- only a sprained ankle, but you fell and hit your head. You’ve were put into a medically induced coma while the doctors tried to repair the damage. You’ve had multiple surgeries. The doctors succeeded, but even after you were weaned off the medication, you still didn’t wake up.” Another squeeze of encouragement as Dany breathed out a sigh of relief to know that at least Jon was ok. It still didn’t explain his absence right now, but it was a start.

 

Dei took another deep breath, bracing. “That was a little over two years ago.”

 

Dany laughed, looking this way and that for the rest of the team to jump out at her yelling “Surprise!” But one look at Dei had the laugh dying in her throat as she turned to Dr. Tarly for verification. He also nodded, and Dei squeezed her hand before reaching for the remote control. “There’s something you should see.”

 

Dany shook her head, overwhelmed and confused, unbelieving and still waiting for the joke to end. Instead, Dei turned on the television, and Dany was shocked to see Jon, skating. Alone.

 

The chiron in the corner of the screen read PyeongChang 2018, and Dany felt her breath freeze in her throat. It really had been years, and Jon… Jon was-- “He won the Short Program, Dany.” Dei’s words washed over her, not really registering, taking in the sight of her beloved’s face. The lines around his eyes were deeper, his face no less stern in the depths of his concentration, the lack of a smile causing her heart to ache.

 

But he was there-- he was whole. He had somehow come out of this seemingly none the worse for wear-- the toll of whatever had happened not driving him to ground, the family they had made buoying him through his grief, keeping him afloat through all the turmoil. The tears were falling steadily now, some of it shock, and some of it gratitude, knowing that he had managed to survive this, and now she would wait for him to return to her, and hope that what she found in his gaze would be as it was before. Selfishly she hoped he hadn’t found someone else, but found that she couldn’t look to Dei to confirm, hope a fragile thing beating within her breast.

 

They had called immediately after that, Dei using every connection she had to get through to Tyrion when neither he, Davos, nor Jon answered their cell phones. And now, they waited. After the phone had crashed to the floor, the line dead in her hands, they had had no word from the team. All they knew was that Jon had withdrawn from the competition, and Yuzuru had gone on to claim the gold for his own.

 

That had been 24 hours ago, and Dany had fought sleep, only dozing lightly-- afraid that if she allowed herself to drift off, she would miss him again, knowing in her heart of hearts that he was battling the skies to reach her as soon as he possibly could. She said a silent prayer to the mistress of gravity, begging that for once in her selfish existence, she would aid and not hinder, and bring her love home to her with all the speed and caress of the winds.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

He had taken a cab from the airport, not trusting himself to drive in his condition, and Davos had gladly taken his keys from him with a promise to bring his jeep directly to the hospital. Jon had shoved his way to the front of the taxi line at Logan, offering apologies, money, and medical emergency excuses to anyone who would listen and let him cut ahead. He emptied his wallet of all the cash he had left into the driver’s hands with the instruction to safely, but quickly get him to Horn Hill General as fast as possible.

 

The cabbie had been as good as his silent nod, sensing the seriousness of the situation, and had Jon to the doors of the Emergency Room within a record breaking 45 minutes. Jon threw open the door of the cab and pelted through the doors, belatedly realizing he had never been to the ER, and grabbing the first harried looking nurse he saw for directions to Dany’s wing.

 

He took off running before the directions were even finished, his anxiousness to see her, to feel her, to taste her driving him forward as his heart thrummed for her. He wound his way through the corridors, fighting down the urge to call for her, and skidded to a stop at the nurses station, taking only a moment to sweep Gilly into his arms for a happy hug as she fought for him to put him down and shoved him toward Dany’s door with a smile on her face.

 

Jon brought himself up short before her door, his heart hammering in his chest, his brain now catching up to the rest of him. He had no idea of her condition, other than the fact that she was awake. Everything had happened so fast since her voice had rung out so clearly from the other half of the world, and he had run to her in every literal sense of the word. He tried to prepare himself for whatever he would find behind this door. 

 

The woman he loved. That’s what he would find.

 

He took a bracing breath and tapped lightly on the door, entering before anyone answered, his eyes eagerly sweeping the room for her, drinking her in as she sat (she sat!) with Dei in the chair next to her, both women absorbed in whatever they were watching on the television. Both turned to him in surprise, and Dei quickly got up, excusing herself with a slight smile.

 

There were no words that either of them could say in this moment, and so he stood, and she sat with hearts and eyes open to each other, unable to look away. Eyes the color of a storm met the warmest shades of earth as Jon crossed the room to her, his feet following the path of his heart as his soul soared to hers, wrapping itself irrevocably around the other.

 

And then, his lips were upon hers, his hands buried in her hair, wanting to waste no more time. Time had been their enemy from the beginning, and it was one he would vanquish here and now, for his lady had returned to bring him her favor, and all of his might surged forth. She opened her mouth under his, drinking him in, her hands weakly wrapping themselves around his neck as she drew herself as close as she could with what little was left of her strength. Her mouth moved against his, her timid tongue sweeping against his lips and he groaned into her mouth, his own tongue thrusting forward, eager to wrap all of him around her. His senses were full of her, the smell her shampoo, the feel of her hair against his hands, the softness of her lips, and the whimper of desire as his hands released her hair and crept around her waist, pulling her body to his chest, the softness of her curves giving way under the hardened planes of his chest.

 

They broke away, gasping for air after a moment, and Jon had to smile at the dazed look in her eyes, the swollenness of her kiss-bruised lips, the wildness of her hair as he smoothed it back from her beautiful face. Her hands fisted weakly in his shirt, her forehead coming to rest on his chest as he cradled her, unable to speak, or move, or do anything but  _ love _ this creature that had defied all the odds and returned to him, just as he had longed for every day.

 

“Dany.” He finally breathed, her name a prayer upon his lips.

 

He felt her shudder under his embrace, knowing that she was weeping as openly as he as she fought for breath, for words. “Jon, I-”

 

“I love you, Dany.”  _ It’s time.  _ “I have loved you from the start, I was just too cowardly to admit to it, too lost in my own grief to see the truth for what it was.”

 

He felt her breath hitch in her chest, her eyes flying up to meet his, searching for the hidden truths in his eyes, but there was no more hiding. Not from her. Never from her. She smiled, a delicate joy weaving across her features as she struggled to find her own tired voice, still in need of healing rest, but here now-- present with him for the first time in years. “I love you, Jon Snow.” She said, her eyes watering with the depth of her feeling, and he caught the tears on the pads of his thumbs as he swept his hands gently beneath her eyes.

 

Their hearts soared skywards on the winds of hope, their love protecting them from all that would harm them, their souls now bound as one for all eternity.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

**4 Years Later**

 

Dany bounced uncontrollably, her excitement spilling over everyone in their vicinity as she took her place at the front of the line, Jon at her side, his mouth slanted in amusement. “I knew you’d be excited,” he said, sliding an arm around her waist and pulling her close to press a kiss to her temple. “But, I didn’t expect this level of glee. I’ll have my work cut out for me later.”

 

She sniffed in mock disdain, her gloved hands gripping the flag pole she held tightly, unfurling the flag of the United States in all of its glory. “We always have our work cut out for us.” She said, flashing him a quick wink as she tilted the pole towards Jon as well, waiting for his gloved hand to cover her own, and together they hoisted the flag as high as they could, the boisterous cheering of Team USA following them out into the dazzling lights of the arena.

 

French flowed around them as they led their team out onto the track, quickly followed by Mandarin and finally English as they raised their flag together, Dany’s joy now complete as the cheers of the crowd gathered here in Beijing rang out. “Ladies and Gentlemen, representing the United States of America, Dany Storm and Jon Snow for Team USA!”

 

Jon’s gaze never left hers as they made their lap, the music and energy washing over her as she continued to bounce her way around the track. Her gratitude shone brightly at the thought of finally making it here, to the Olympics, and not only as a competitor. She and Jon had been chosen for a special honor, to be the flag-bearers for Team USA, voted in by a resounding majority of their peers. She hadn’t let herself hope that this could be possible-- not since she had awoken that day in the hospital, the day that everything had changed, but here she was. Living her-- no,  _ their  _ dreams.

 

She grinned at Jon as they finished their lap, passing the flag to the attendant assigned to the United States, and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. They settled into their seats for the rest of the show, awe and wonder pouring from her at every marvel, her hand firmly clasped in Jon’s. All too soon the Ceremony was done, and a light snow had started to fall. The stadium cleared rapidly, but Dany found herself rooted to her seat, her gaze caught up within the flames of the Olympic cauldron as she thought about every moment and every person that had led her here.

 

It had not been an easy road, but she couldn’t help the bubble of love that rose in her throat when she looked at Jon. Now a partner in more than words-- in every way, in reality. He stood and offered her a hand, drawing her to her feet in the lightly falling snow. “Walk with me?” He smiled down at her, and thoroughly charmed, she let him lead her back down to the track, keeping her hand gently clasped in his own.

 

A few other athletes had the same idea and followed Jon and Dany on their lap, the laughter resonating through the air, followed by a snowball or two that had them shrieking and taking cover behind the stage. Dany giggled at the  playful insults being tossed about, something about “Oldtimers!” carrying on the wind until Jon finally silenced them all with a few well placed snowballs of his own.

 

“Damn kids.” He smiled down at her, his hair dusted in snow from the skirmish.

 

“What?” she demurred. “I’m pretty sure that they were about to get to the good stuff. Let’s see if Snow/Storm can finally break their curse, etc etc.” She came to an abrupt stop as Jon’s finger descended upon her lips, effectively shushing her.

 

“Blessing.” He said quietly.

 

Dany froze, her long forgotten words coming to the forefront of her mind as if it were yesterday. “Blessing?” She hedged.

 

Jon turned her face to his, bringing the palms of the hands that had explored every professional and personal inch of her to her cheeks, feathering against her as if he was afraid one rebellious stroke of a finger would do her in permanently, his eyes every bit as dark and somber as she remembered from their early years together. “My greatest blessing.” He said before briefly touching his lips to hers.

 

A thrill shot through her at the gentle caress, but he pulled away before she could return the favor, his hands falling from her face to grasp her waist as he pulled her into a dance, the lights of the arena making the snow sparkle. Dany sighed happily, and settled her head against his shoulder, surprised when he started to hum into her ear. It took a moment for the tune to register, but suddenly she was back on the ice with him, his eyes warm and pleading.

 

_ Just skate with me... _

 

“I could make you happy, make your dreams come true…” Jon sang softly, his chin resting on the crown of her head, and Dany could feel her heart swell at the depth of the love she felt for this man. “There's nothing that I wouldn't do… go to the ends of this Earth for you, to make you feel my love, oh yes.... To make you feel my love.”

 

Dany pulled away, tears springing to her eyes. She had never told him what song she had been listening to that day. “How long have you known?” She whispered, once more thanking all the gods, old and new, that Jon Snow had been sent to her.

 

Jon chuckled, his laugh resounding within her still to this day. “You had the volume up pretty high. I could hear it the entire time.”

 

Dany pulled back, horrified that he had known the inner workings of her soul all this time. “You knew?”

 

Jon eyes sparked. “I’ve always known.” He said softly, dropping another soft kiss upon her lips before he pulled away and dropped to one knee before her, a small black box appearing out of nowhere as she gasped. “Just as I’ve always know that one day you would be mine.”

 

Dany froze, wanting to preserve this memory for all time, knowing that there was no true way to do so, but wanting to remember and live every, every moment. “Daenerys Targaryen that was, Dany Storm that is, will you by  _ my _ Dany until the end of our days?” He took a shuddering breath, opening the box to reveal the most delicate ring, white-gold, almost the color of her hair, with an square cut ruby in the middle. “I love you, Dany. Will you marry me?”

 

She almost knocked the ring into the snow she was so effusive in her response, tackling Jon to the ground, her long hair falling around them and shielding them from the curious eyes that were now starting to gather at the edges of the track. She pressed her lips to his hungrily, her hands sliding into his hair as they both laughed and revelled in the delights of each other. “Always, Jon Snow.” She said, her heart full and light.

 

“Forever and always.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for a confession-- I haven't written much of anything in 10 years. I've dabbled here and there, written some sketch comedy, half a children's book, but my fire was gone. 
> 
> Game of Thrones quite literally kept me sane during the last insane push of planning my wedding. A ship that I had been rooting for (for years before it was even a possibility!) had finally come together and I couldn't have been happier. Ao3 became my safe haven-- a place where I could read all of your lovely, imaginative works. I wasn't always the best at commenting (still am not, and am trying to improve!), but something about this place embraced me at a time where I felt drained of all creativity, and gave me a place to hide when I couldn't stand being a bride (if you've ever wanted to elope, but were forced to have a wedding to satisfy family, you know the feeling).
> 
> And then, the Olympics happened, and this fic was born. And it's twice as long, and twice as many chapters as I originally intended! Snowstorm is the longest fic I have ever attempted, and the first longer than 3 chapters that I have ever finished. In essence, I've completed my first novel!
> 
> And it's weird. I have no idea what to do next other than rest. As most of you can see, I left plenty of details untold. That's because there may be a sequel in here. I don't know for sure. All I know, is that for once, I told the story I intended to tell, and I am so immensely proud.
> 
> Thank you all for your support along the way. I said it in the beginning, and I'll say it again now. I couldn't have done it without all of you. My final ask is that you let me know what you think. If you've been waiting to binge, that's great-- it's done now! If you've been lurking, say hi! If you've been one of my constant rocks and buoys-- thank you for lending me your strength when I had none.
> 
> Love. Nothing but love for you all. <3

**Author's Note:**

> So, that's all you get for now. :)
> 
> I plan for this to be short and sweet. I'm not the world's quickest updater, but I had to strike while the Olympic iron was hot.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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